Another Toss of the Dice
by scarlet79
Summary: WARNING...AU...The Winchesters find news of deaths in Las Vegas. When they turn up to investigate, they run into a military team who are also tracking the creature responsible. As the brothers find out, nothing is quite as it seems. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Vampires in Vegas

_______Notes: So, I was showing my sis the Atlantis story I had just finished, and we got to talking. We happen to share a love of Stargate AND Supernatural, so we thought, "wouldn't it be cool if Sam and Dean met Sheppard and his team?" I was telling her about the "Vegas" episode of Atlantis, and an idea started forming. _

_Oh, and before I forget...I DO NOT own any of the characters portrayed within. Kripke or whoever owns the Winchesters, and MGM owns Shep and his team...*sigh* too bad..._

_This takes a little of the AU from Vegas - little things like Shep's car - and most from canon of the show. Both shows, actually, now that I think about it. Anyway, hope you enjoy this story..._

* * *

Chapter 1

Denver, CO

Sam Winchester woke up to a familiar clicking sound, and turned his head toward the right side of his bed. Sitting on the bed next to his was his brother, Dean, who, after having cleaned his guns meticulously, was loading bullets into the handguns' clips. When he saw his younger sibling awaken, Dean gave him his characteristic grin before turning back to his work.

"Hey, Sammy. Welcome back to the land of the living."

Realizing the irony of Dean's comment, Sam curled his upper lip at him. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight. You slept like a baby." Dean's grin turned almost evil as he added, "You missed the Asian twins."

Sam didn't reply to Dean's obvious, baiting remark, and merely swung his legs out of the bed, rolling his sore shoulders backward and then forward. When they were sufficiently loosened, he shuffled into the tiny, closet-sized bathroom.

"Why can't we ever stay in like, a Sheraton or something? These motel toilets are disgusting," he called from behind the half-closed door.

Dean grinned. "I like torturing you. Besides, nothing helps a hangover better than the wonderful smell of rusty pee-water."

Dean could hear Sam groan from where he sat, now sharpening a wooden stake with his hunting knife. His guns lay beside him on the bed, on top of the fabric case he kept them wrapped in.

"You're so gross, Dean."

"Yes, I am," he replied. The same wide smile was still on his face as Sam walked by and punched him in the shoulder. "So," he continued, "anything on the demon-radar?"

Catching the half-serious tone to his brother's voice, Sam sat down at the small, round table in the room, and flipped open his laptop. He opened his web-browser, typed something into the address bar, and scrolled down the page that popped up.

About three-quarters of the way down, something caught his eye, and he cocked his head to the side.

"Nothing on demons…" he trailed off. Suddenly interested, Dean tossed aside his stake and came to stand behind Sam's left shoulder.

"But?" Dean prompted. He knew by the tone in Sam's voice that something interesting had popped up, and despite his overwhelming weariness, it managed to excite him a little as well.

"But, there may be something happening in Las Vegas."

Dean grinned again. "Isn't there always?"

Again, Sam ignored Dean's remark, and kept reading the article on the screen. "Seems a few people have turned up dead there recently. Five, to be exact."

"Maybe they lost too much money."

"Dean," Sam warned, throwing a sigh at the end. He sometimes wished that Dean would take things a little more seriously, especially considering the horrible things they'd been through over the years. But humor was Dean's way of dealing with stress, Sam knew, and he wasn't likely to stop now.

Hearing the weary sound that escaped Sam's lips, Dean forced himself to become serious, and leaned a little farther over Sam's shoulder.

"So what's the deal?" He asked.

"Well, the report is a little fuzzy on details, but from the description of the bodies, I'd say it was vampires."

"Oh, come on. Again?" Dean growled. Out of all the creatures they'd dealt with since becoming hunters, vampires were second on his "hate list", after demons, of course.

"Seems like it." Sam leaned back, folding his arms over his chest as he scanned the rest of the article. "So, what do you think? Should we check it out?"

Dean pondered his question for a moment. He was tired of this; he had been for quite some time, actually, but this was a responsibility that their father had given them, and Dean wasn't too keen on disappointing him, even though he'd been dead for quite some time. As he glanced down at his brother's face – was that excitement he saw there? – he rubbed a hand over his face and nodded.

"Yeah, we should go check it out. Get packed, Sammy. Bus leaves in an hour."

* * *

While Sam stood inside the motel settling the bill with the front desk, Dean waited for him outside, his thoughts rolling through him a mile a minute. The usual worries were there – would he be able to protect Sammy if anything attacked him? Would they be able to track down whatever was responsible for the deaths of the five people in Las Vegas? – as well as a few others he wasn't willing to explore any deeper at the moment. He always felt this way just before a hunt, doubting himself and his abilities as a hunter, and as a brother. And it only got worse as time went on, more so after he'd been pulled out of Hell. Frustrated with himself, he blew out a sigh and pulled his keys out of his pocket.

He was just tossing his duffel bag into the trunk, when he felt a sudden gust of wind beside him.

"Dean," a deep voice rumbled, and despite already knowing who was there, he jumped in surprise.

The man who stood there was dressed in his characteristic tan duster, his hands resting loosely at his sides. Though his dark eyes were serious, his mouth held a hint of a smile. Dean wondered silently if it was a remnant of the person being used as a vessel, or not.

Dean frowned at the man. "Cass."

Castiel, who Sam sometimes jokingly referred to as "Dean's guardian angel", nodded once, his eyes still serious.

"There an angel convention nearby, or something?" Dean asked as he slammed his black Impala's trunk closed and moved toward the driver's side of the car. Castiel followed him, obviously still not understanding Dean's sense of humor.

"No," he said. "I came to warn you."

"Warn me?" It was Dean's turn to be confused. "About the vamps in Vegas?"

Castiel nodded again, but Dean stuck out his bottom lip and shrugged. "We've handled these bastards before. Piece of cake."

Castiel took a step forward, and leaned toward Dean, to emphasize his next words. "These are not your usual vampires, Dean."

"Whaddya mean?" He asked the angel, who took a deep breath as he found the right words to explain.

"They are not from…here."

"What, from Earth?"

Castiel nodded.

"Okay," Dean said. "So, then, what are they? Demons?"

"No."

Dean waited for him to continue, his arms folded over his chest. When Castiel remained silent, Dean said, "No?"

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you any more than that."

"Orders, huh?" Dean asked sarcastically, though Castiel nodded in complete seriousness.

"Can you at least tell me how to kill 'em?" Dean asked, agitated more by the second. He was beginning to think that the only time Cass showed up was when he had bad news for the brothers, and that really irritated him.

The shake of Castiel's head only served to worsen his irritation. "I don't know. I only came to warn you to be careful."

With a sardonic smile, Dean nodded. "Well, thanks _so_ much for stopping by. I'll tell Sam you said 'Hi'."

"You're welcome, Dean," Castiel replied, and Dean turned away to pull open the driver's-side door. Then, a question suddenly came to his mind, and he turned back to ask it to Castiel. As usual, however, the angel had disappeared, and Dean gave a sigh and slid into his seat, resting his palms on the steering wheel.

A minute later, Sam pulled open his door and got in, shutting the door behind him a little harder than Dean liked.

"Hey! Treat my girl with some respect, huh?" He shot at Sam, who just shrugged.

"Sorry," the younger brother replied. Then, a strange look passed over his face, and he asked, "What's wrong?"

Dean shrugged and started the Impala's engine. "Cass dropped by."

This made Sam sit up a little straighter. "What for?"

"Apparently, these vamps we're lookin' for in Vegas, well, they're not your run-of-the-mill, cut-their-head-off-type vampires."

"So, what are they, then?"

Dean shrugged again as he pulled the car away from the curb and drove down the street. "Didn't say. And he didn't tell me how to kill 'em, either, so I guess we're on our own for that, too." Then, he remembered something, and glanced over at his brother. "Oh, but he _did_ say 'Hi' to you."

Sam frowned and leaned his head back against the headrest. "Great."

Seeing the look of disappointment on Sam's face, Dean quickly reached over and ruffled his brown hair, causing Sam's frown to deepen slightly. Dean knew he hated it, but he couldn't help himself.

"Lighten up, Sammy. It's no worse than when we first started out," he commented, but Sam merely shrugged. "Long way to Vegas, you should probably get some sleep."

Sam heard the tone of Dean's voice, and knew he was ribbing him about sleeping so late in the motel room. A grin slipped onto his face then, and he turned to look at the side of Dean's head.

"Nah. I've got some reading to do if we wanna stop these things."

Glad that Sam's foul mood had lifted, Dean smiled wickedly and muttered, "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam replied, playing their usual name-calling game. Then, he dug around in his bag and pulled out the thick, black book he'd been looking for. They had at least twelve hours before they reached Vegas, so he knew had plenty of time to read the entire book, as well as the other three in his bag.

* * *

Las Vegas, NV

Dean's Impala pulled to a stop outside a small diner, in the desert just outside Las Vegas, the rumbling of its exhaust echoing off the hills. The night air was cool, but comfortable as it drifted through Dean's open window. Both men sighed quietly as Dean cut the engine, staring appreciatively at the neon sign advertising "Fresh Coffee".

"Well," Dean said as he nodded at the diner's filled seats, "Looks like a busy joint."

"Yeah, let's just hope we didn't pick the one that's full of vampires. Or demons," Sam commented, curling his upper lip at the memory of walking into a bar that had been owned, operated, and patronized by nothing but demons. A good hunter had died that night, and his wife had almost joined him. If he, Dean and Bobby hadn't been there…he shuddered at the thought of what might've happened to her.

"Quit bein' a wuss," Dean said, popping open his door and sliding out. He stood beside the car, stretching his aching legs, as Sam got out on his side of the car.

"Shut up," Sam replied, shoving his stack of books into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Just to upset his brother, he slammed the car door shut after him.

It seemed to work. Dean glared at Sam as if he'd performed the worst crime in the world – and, to Dean, he had – and silently pointed his finger at him as a warning. Then, he nodded toward the diner.

"Let's get in there. I'm hungry."

Sam shook his head. "You're kidding!" He cried in mock-amazement. Dean ignored him, and led the way through the windowed door of the eatery. Inside, it was just as it seemed from outside, waitresses dressed in aprons, snapping their gum as they brought food to the small booths and tables; the music that surrounded them was some Bluegrass tune, bright and happy, and Dean wrinkled his nose at it. He'd rather be forced to listen to pop music than this.

Beside him, Sam seemed oblivious to the sights and sounds within the diner. He'd taken a quick, cursory glance at the people seated at the tables, and then walked up to the counter, sliding into one of three empty stools there. Dean followed, sitting on the stool beside his brother just as a pretty, blonde waitress walked up to the counter opposite them.

"Hi," she said, her face widening with a smile as she realized just how handsome these two newcomers were. "What can I get you?"

Sam's smile was friendly as he replied, "I'll just get a vanilla milkshake, please."

"No problem." She looked at Dean next. "How 'bout you?"

"Well…" he looked at her nametag, "…Shannon. I'll have your 'Famous Cheeseburger', with extra bacon. And a Coke."

Shannon nodded as she memorized their order, and shouted it to the cook, who gave her a thumbs-up in reply. Then, she went over to the soda fountain and filled Dean's glass, and stuck a straw in it as she brought it over to him. He thanked her, and she went to prepare Sam's milkshake.

"If she's a vampire," Dean said as he nudged Sam with an elbow, "then I'll gladly let her…"

Knowing exactly where Dean was going with his statement, Sam elbowed him back harder, while whispering "Dean" just loud enough for only him to hear.

A minute later, Shannon had returned with the shake, and set it down in front of Sam. "You sure you don't want anything else?" She asked him. "The pie here is really good."

Sufficiently tempted, mostly because of the empty growling in his stomach, Sam nodded. "Okay. I'll take a slice, then."

"Great!" She replied, her wide grin returning. She took a step sideways and reached into a glass case, selecting a slice of cherry pie from a shelf. As she set it before him, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a fork, which he took from her with a smile.

"So," Dean began as he watched Sam nearly shovel the pie into his mouth, "this is a great little place. How long you been working here?"

Shannon shrugged at him. "Pretty much all my life. My parents own this diner."

"Really?" Dean replied, feigning surprise even though he'd already glimpsed the picture of her standing with her parents hanging on the wall in the main part of the diner. Underneath the picture was a newspaper article containing a review of the food and service at the small restaurant, and it also mentioned the names of the owners and their waitress-daughter.

"It must be great to be able to go into the family business like that," Dean continued, and beside him, Sam suddenly choked on a bite of his pie. Sam held up his hand, telling them he was okay, that he just needed to catch his breath.

"It sure is," Shannon replied, then turned away to bid goodbye to a few patrons who were leaving. When she turned back, she explained, "Husband and wife. They've been coming here ever since I could walk."

Dean nodded. "You must know pretty much everyone in here, then, huh?"

Shannon nodded in return. "Yep. Everyone but you two, and the four people at the back table."

Dean turned to glance at the table she indicated. Three men and a woman sat there, talking quietly. The woman was dressed in regular clothes – dress slacks and a nice, shimmery tank top – but she seemed uncomfortable in them. Seated beside her was a tall, tan-skinned man, who wore dreadlocks that he'd tied at the back of his neck with an elastic band, and looked about as uncomfortable as she did. Across from the tall man sat a man who, in contrast to them, seemed perfectly at ease in the diner. Though all Dean could see of him was the back of his dark hair, he could see that the man's legs were crossed at his ankles under the table, and that he leaned back comfortably in his chair. Beside him was the third man, who was talking animatedly, his hands moving to emphasize whatever point he was trying to make. Every once in a while, the animated man glanced around, as if to make sure no one could hear their conversation.

They weren't acting suspiciously, exactly, but something about them just seemed off to Dean. He shrugged off the strange feeling, however, and turned back to Shannon.

"Well, I'm Dean, and the Sasquatch over there is Sam."

"Good to meet you. You come from nearby?"

Not wanting to give away too much, Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Colorado, actually. Coming here was Sam's birthday present." She nodded uncertainly, but said nothing, and Dean knew she didn't believe him. _Not my problem_, he thought to himself. Then, he asked, "You have any idea who they are, where they came from?"

She shook her head. "They just ordered their food, made a little small talk about the heat in Vegas, and started talking among themselves. They seem nice, just kinda private. Pretty much everybody who comes to Vegas is, though."

"Ain't that the truth," he nodded, turning once more to glance at the group. They were laughing quietly now, probably at some joke one of them had told.

"Here's your burger," Shannon said then, and he turned back again.

The monstrous burger before him looked delicious, and his stomach rumbled in agreement. "Wow," he said, "that looks…great."

He caught Sam's look of disgust, but ignored it, instead picking up the burger and taking a huge bite. The juicy beef easily complimented the cool crunch of lettuce, tomato and onion, and he soon found himself looking for a napkin to wipe away the grease that had escaped down his chin and hands.

"Oh, my God," he sighed as he swallowed that first, blissful bite. "You don't know what you're missin', Sam."

"I don't really care, Dean."

Shannon wiped the counter with a rag, her eyes flicking around the room every once in a while, watching for anyone who required her assistance. When she realized no one did, she asked, "So, you two brothers, or something?"

"How'd you guess?" Dean asked, taking a moment to wipe his hands and face, then take a long sip of his Coke.

"Years of practice. And, my brothers used to act the same way." Her eyes turned sad, and Dean noticed that Sam's best puppy-dog look had suddenly appeared on his face.

"We're sorry," Sam said softly, and Dean nodded.

"It's okay. It was a long time ago. It's just that you two act so much like they did," she gave them a smile, but this time, it failed to reach her eyes.

Dean was just about to ask her more, when she saw the group of strangers walking toward the counter. Dean watched them approach from the corner of his eye, and noticed Sam doing the same, while pretending to be focused on his milkshake.

"Coffee was great," said the man Dean had seen reclining in his seat earlier. Dean decided this was the perfect opportunity to get a better look at the man. He was in his late 30's or early 40's, and wore a dark t-shirt and jeans, paired with black boots. His face held just about a day's worth of stubble, and his eyes, Dean noticed before the man slid dark Ray-Bans over them, were a strange hazel-green shade. The smile he gave Shannon seemed genuine, but Dean felt his instincts bristle anyway.

"Yes, yes," the animated man said then, "And so was the pie."

"Glad you're happy with it," Shannon said with a smile, then gave them the total for their meal. Ray-Ban Man dug out his wallet and handed her a few bills, and nodded his thanks when she handed him his change.

Noticing Sam and Dean watching them, Ray-Ban said, "How's it goin'?"

"Great, thanks," Sam replied, and smiled in response to the others' nods of hello-and-goodbye.

With a final smile at the waitress, Ray-Ban led the way out of the diner, toward a red Chevy Camaro. It looked to Dean to be a late 70's or earlier 80's model – he couldn't tell which, since it was dark outside – but he immediately appreciated the guy's taste. The woman got into the back, as well as the man who'd commented on the pie, and the taller, dreadlocked man folded himself into the passenger seat as Ray-Ban got into the driver's side and started the engine. It rumbled almost as loudly as the Impala, and Dean found himself suddenly envying the man, wishing he could take the Camaro for a spin.

"Well, Sammy, I think we should get back to the motel, get some sleep," Dean said then, tearing his gaze away from the sight of the Camaro spinning out of the gravel parking lot.

Sam nodded. "Sure."

Dean turned toward Shannon. "How much do I owe ya'?"

Seeming disappointed that they were leaving, Shannon forced a small smile, then replied, "Seven seventy-seven."

Hearing that, Dean cocked his head. "Three sevens. Must be a sign, eh Sammy?"

Sam just rolled his eyes as Dean paid for their meal. When that business was taken care of, Sam reached over and shook Shannon's hand.

"Thanks for the pie. It was great."

She smiled and nodded. "No problem. You boys stay out of trouble."

"Oh, you know the saying…boys will be boys," Dean quipped, and she laughed.

After exchanging final goodbyes, the brothers left the diner, and slid into the Impala.

Dean put the key into the ignition, but didn't turn it on. He glanced over at Sam, who seemed deep in thought.

"What're you thinkin'?" he asked, and Sam shrugged.

"Something about those guys was off."

Dean nodded. "I thought so, too. You think they're the ones we're after?"

Sam thought about that, then shook his head. "Nah." An idea hit him then, and he frowned. "Though the guy with the sunglasses _was_ carrying a gun. You think they're hunters?"

Dean shook his head. "If they are, I haven't heard about 'em. Maybe we should give Bobby a call."

"Yeah. Maybe," Sam replied.

Realizing Sam had ended his half of the conversation, Dean turned the key and started his car, then roared out of the parking lot, headed toward their motel.

* * *

_TBC..._


	2. What Are the Odds?

_Notes: Okay, a few things...first, yes, I used the little joke of having Sam and Dean's fake names be those from famous bands' members. See if you can figure out who they are. Also, sorry the part with the Wraith attack is so short...it seemed longer on my Word program. LOL Anyway, enjoy..._

_Disclaimer...Still don't own ANY of the characters...if anyone wants to give me Shep or Sam for my Birthday, though, that'd be sweet!_

* * *

Chapter 2

Sam had made sure the alarm on his watch was set before going to bed, and now he sat straight up in bed as soon as it went off, beeping incessantly at him. He shut it off, and reached down to grab his clean clothes from where he'd laid them on the floor beside the bed. It was still dark out, since it was only 2 a.m., but he didn't turn on the light. It didn't matter; he was used to getting dressed in the dark.

Once Sam was dressed, he reached over and shoved Dean's shoulder with his hand.

"Dean." His brother didn't move, and Sam rolled his eyes and tried again. "Dean!"

Dean jerked awake, his arm flailing out to hit whoever had dared to wake him. When he was fully awake, however, he glanced up at Sam and muttered, "I'm up, you fairy! You can quit hitting me."

Sam just grinned and tossed Dean's clothes at him, then walked over to the window and pulled aside the dingy curtain, peering through the glass to the parking lot beyond.

"Hey!" Dean called from where he stood, zipping up his pants. "Shut the curtain. Someone could see me naked in here!"

"Since when do you worry about that?" Sam joked, and was rewarded by being hit with Dean's dirty t-shirt. He closed the curtain a little, anyway.

"Bobby have anything on the people we saw at the diner earlier?"

"Nope. Never heard of anyone matching their description."

Dean shrugged. "Didn't look like hunters, anyway. Except the tall guy, maybe."

Sam just chuckled in reply, his eyes still on the badly-lit area around the motel.

"What about these…super-vamps or whatever? Anything about them?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "No. There's no literature anywhere about vampires that can't be killed by a stake to the heart. It doesn't make any sense."

Dean made a noise in his throat. "Since when does anything about this job make sense?"

Sam shrugged, acknowledging that Dean had a point. Until a few years ago, he didn't really think that vampires even existed, much less angels and demons.

"It makes me wonder if they can be killed at all," Sam muttered then. "Or if they're even vampires."

"Whaddya mean?"

He turned from the window to stare at his older brother, who was slipping a 9mm into his waistband. "The only thing that fits with vampire lore, is the fact that the victims were drained of blood. Of all fluids, actually."

"Yeah. So?"

"So," he said with a sigh, "they didn't have the usual puncture marks on their necks. They did have a wound on their chest, over their heart, though. And, they looked like mummies – their hair was white, their bodies completely desiccated. It was as if…"

"As if something had sucked the life out of them," Dean finished, and Sam nodded.

"What the hell are we dealing with, Dean?"

Dean gazed at his brother, seeing in his green eyes a hint of fear, and it unnerved him. As softly as his normally gruff voice would allow, he said, "I don't know, Sammy."

* * *

The creature crouched in the darkness, waiting. It could hear someone approaching its hiding spot, but it didn't dare move. Finally, from its spot behind the corner of the house, it could see the person making so much noise. A man walked down the driveway, carrying a bag of garbage to the curb. He was fairly young, not much over twenty-five, and a lit cigarette dangled from his lips, the end turning red as he sucked in a breath.

"Pain in the ass," he muttered, slamming the lid on the garbage can. "Next time, she can take out the trash. I ain't no maid."

When he had dumped the trash, the man turned around, planning on going back inside and watching the rest of the game on TV. The only reason he was out here at all, was because his girlfriend had nagged him about taking out the garbage, and he was sick of hearing her complain.

He had gone less than four steps, when the creature leapt out from its hiding place and slapped its hand onto the man's chest.

"What the…?" was all he was able to say before a strangled cry escaped him. The creature growled deep in its throat, seeming to delight in the man's pain.

The man turned toward the house, hoping his girlfriend would see him and get help, at the same time praying she wouldn't see him die like this, with this creature attacking him. He could feel his life draining from him, his legs weakening to the point where they could no longer support him. With a last burst of energy, the man grabbed the creature's arm, trying to pry it away from his chest, but he was no match for it.

The creature let out an ear-piercing cry, dragging him behind the bushes along the side of the house, and the man suddenly realized that it was over – this was how he died. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate, and a few moments later, his heart stopped beating.

The creature gave a victorious howl, and dropped the man's body on the ground, discarding him like the trash he'd dumped at the corner. With a quick glance around, it was pleased to find that it's meal hadn't been witnessed. With any luck, it would remain that way for some time. Casting a final glance behind it, the creature slunk back into the shadows of the houses, to hide until the hunger returned once more.

* * *

Dean ducked under the yellow police tape, thanking the officer who had let him and Sam through even as he slid his fake FBI badge back into his hip pocket. Standing nearby was a young woman dressed in a dark blue robe and a pair of flip-flops. Her face was streaked with tears, and her hair was still mussed, as if she'd been roused from her sleep in a rush. Dean gestured toward her with his chin, and Sam gave an almost-imperceptible nod in return, then stepped over to speak with her as Dean walked over to a sheet-covered body.

"Hi," Sam said to the woman, with a sympathetic grin. "I'm Agent Ulrich, from the FBI. My partner over there is Agent Whitford."

"Missy Allard," the woman replied, wiping the tears from her face.

"You were Mr. Chapman's girlfriend?" He asked, and she nodded.

"He'd just moved into my house about a month ago."

"Were you the one who found him?"

Missy shook her head. "No. My neighbor did. He was taking his dog for a walk, I guess, and Frank was…" She broke down into tears then, covering her face with her hands, and Sam lightly rested his own hand on her shoulder.

Shooting Dean a quick glance, which Dean responded to by nodding back, Sam asked, "Could we maybe speak inside?"

Missy nodded through her tears, and took a few breaths to steady herself. "Of course. Right this way."

Dean watched his brother disappear into the ranch-style house with the victim's girlfriend, before turning back to the Sheriff in charge of the case.

"What do you make of this, Sheriff?" He asked.

The sheriff shrugged. "It's just like the other five, but I can't make heads or tails out of it. We'll have to wait for an autopsy to get any idea of motive. Or a weapon, for that matter." Then, he looked at Dean from the corner of his eye. "How about you?"

Dean shook his head. "Me? Nope. This definitely tops my 'weird list'."

"What's the FBI's interest in this case, anyway?"

"I'm not completely sure, myself. I just go where they tell me, and report back." He glanced over at the other man, and was glad when the sheriff simply shrugged.

"Well, I've got a few of my guys to talk to. You go ahead, and do whatever it is you need to do."

"Thanks, Sheriff," Dean replied, and stuck out his hand. The sheriff shook it, his grip firm, and then walked away, leaving Dean alone with the body.

The body looked the same as the others – drained completely dry of any fluids, the skin wrinkled in some places, pulled taut in others – and if he didn't know any better, he would've guessed that Frank Chapman was nearing 70 when he died, not 30. As he pulled the sheet down farther, he could clearly see the wound on the man's chest, shaped like a large bite mark, with finger-marks around it. Puzzled, Dean poked at it with a pen.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," a voice said from above him. Dean glanced up, and was surprised to see that the man standing there was none other than Mr. Ray-Ban.

"Good thing you're not, then, huh?" Dean asked. Ray-Ban smiled at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling around his sunglasses.

"Sure is," the man replied, and Dean realized a moment too late that Ray-Ban had just insulted him.

"You mind my asking who you are?"

"Do you?"

Realizing where this was going, Dean stood up and crossed his arms over his chest. "Depends. But I asked first, so…"

"John Sheppard, US Military," the man replied, the grin on his face never wavering as he waited for Dean to speak.

Dean realized then that Sheppard was sizing him up, and decided to return the favor. Letting his gaze sweep over the other man, he replied, "Agent Whitford, FBI."

"FBI, huh?"

"Yep."

They stood facing each other for a full minute, neither saying another word, until Dean noticed the woman who was with Sheppard bending over the body, examining the chest wound. The other two men stood nearby, their eyes carefully watching the scene before them.

"So you're all military?" Dean finally asked, and Sheppard nodded.

"You could say that."

"That's weird. The shorter guy doesn't look it."

Sheppard shrugged his shoulders. "That's McKay. He doesn't get out much."

Dean simply nodded, as the woman stood up and turned to look at Sheppard. Though it was invisible to anyone else, Dean saw her nod to him, and a knowing look flickered quickly across Sheppard's eyes. Then, the smile was back.

"And the other two?"

"The lovely lady here is Teyla, and the tall guy is Ronon."

Dean cocked his head. "Odd-sounding names."

"Hippie parents," Sheppard replied with a shrug. Then, he straightened his shoulders and said, "Well, I hate to tell you this, but it looks like this is our case now."

Dean narrowed his gray eyes at Sheppard. "I'm sorry?"

"I said…"

"I know what you said," Dean interrupted, ignoring the murderous look Sheppard was giving him. "But as far as I know, this guy wasn't military. Just how do you think you have jurisdiction here?"

Sheppard's tall friend took a step forward, but Sheppard raised a warning hand, and he came no farther. When he turned back to Dean, Sheppard's gaze was hard.

"Look," he hissed, "unfortunately for you, that's none of your business, and if you have a problem, you can talk to your superiors about it."

Dean knew that the man had him there, as he had no real superiors to complain to. Angry beyond words at the problems this Sheppard was creating for him, Dean tightened his jaw, and stepped away from Chapman's body.

"Good luck," he muttered, as he watched Sam walk across the lawn toward him.

"Thanks," Sheppard replied, a hint of sarcasm sneaking into his voice. Then, he walked over to the rest of his team and started giving orders, to which they all nodded, once in a while adding their own comments in between.

"Is that the guy from last night?" Sam asked when he'd reached Dean.

"Yeah."

"What's going on?"

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. "They're from the military. This is their case."

Sam was confused. "What? Why?"

"It's classified, apparently," Dean spat. Then, he glanced at Sam. "What'd the girlfriend tell you?"

"Uh, well, not much. According to her, she and Frank over there had some kind of argument over taking out the trash, and he slammed out of the house."

"Mm. Same story, different day. Relationships, huh?"

Sam frowned, but kept going. "She figured he'd gone for a walk to cool off, and after he didn't come home, she decided to go to bed. Neighbor's shouts woke her up, and…" he gestured toward the body to emphasize.

"So she didn't hear anything?"

"Nope. TV was on pretty loud, though. Frank was watching a football game before he went outside."

By this time, they had reached the Impala, and Dean stood on his side, staring at Sam over the top of the car. "So, her boyfriend gets sucked dry outside the house, and she doesn't know about it until hours later?"

"Yup."

"Freaky."

Sam sighed and pulled open his door. "So where do we go now?"

"Morgue."

"Dean!" Sam whined, but Dean just grinned.

"Sorry, Sammy. But there's something going on here, and we need to find out what that is."

* * *

Sheppard walked down the hall leading to the morgue, his face showing he was deep in thought. Beside him, Teyla kept up with his pace, her eyes also echoing his worry.

"John," she said, "how did this happen? I thought it was impossible for…"

"Shh," he interrupted, shooting her a warning look. "Someone could hear you. We'll talk about this later, in the hotel."

She nodded. "Of course."

"Where's McKay and Ronon?"

"They are outside, by your vehicle," she replied, and he nodded.

"Good."

"The FBI agent you spoke with, who was he?"

Sheppard grinned knowingly. "Well, first of all, he wasn't FBI."

"But he said…"

"I know what he said. I don't know who he is, but I know he's no government agent."

Teyla fell silent, and together they walked outside to meet with the rest of the team.

The moment he saw Sheppard, McKay stood up straight, pushing away from where he leaned against Sheppard's car. He crossed his arms, trying to look nonchalant, but he failed miserably, as usual. Sheppard had seen him resting against the car, and rather than yell at him as he normally would, he simply shot him a warning look.

Suddenly self-conscious, McKay looked down at himself, and cried out, "Aw, come on!"

"What's your problem, McKay?" Ronon growled from across the top of the car, and the shorter man scowled back at him.

"My pants are all dirty! Sheppard, are you ever gonna wash your car?"

Sheppard grinned, humored by fate's swift hand. "Not when it keeps you from leaning against her."

McKay's scowl deepened as Teyla opened the car door, then asked, "Do you think the 'not-FBI' man will discover what is going on?"

Sheppard shook his head. "Not likely. Somehow, I doubt anyone on Earth would believe what's really happening."

"Man's got a point," Ronon put in as he shoved McKay into the back seat, then slid the front seat back into position and got in. His long legs wouldn't quite fit, but he shifted them enough to the side to be able to sit comfortably enough.

"Doesn't matter, anyway," Sheppard muttered, sliding into the driver's seat and turned the ignition with a quick flick of his wrist. "We should be able to track the Wraith with a handheld scanner easily enough, and then this'll all be over."

"Maybe."

Sheppard's head snapped up, and he glared into the rearview mirror at McKay. "I'm sorry?"

McKay shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I said, maybe. As in, 'maybe' we can track the Wraith."

"Rodney," Sheppard warned, "I thought I said 'no surprises'. This counts as a surprise."

"Well, I'm sorry. But I did make it perfectly clear that this plan was a pot-shot, at best. There's a chance that the scanner won't work, due to all the electrical interference on Earth, as well as the sheer number of people on the planet. I might be able to sort some of the interference out, but beyond that…"

"Just figure it out, Rodney," Sheppard interrupted, slamming on his brakes as a car cut him off. As his foot jammed down on the pedal, he spun the wheel to the right, avoiding what could have been a nasty collision. Unbelievably, the driver who'd cut him off had the nerve to honk at him. Sheppard let out a string of curses, then caught Teyla's raised eyebrow in the rearview.

"Sorry, Teyla," he apologized, and had she not been gripping the back of his seat so hard that her knuckles were white, she might have made a comment about his swearing. As it was, however, she simply nodded and turned to look out the window, watching for any more dangerous drivers.

The interior of the car was silent for a good ten minutes, the only sound coming from Rodney's scanner, as he tried to recalibrate it. Finally, the quiet had unnerved Sheppard to his breaking point, and he reached down and switched on the radio. A classic rock song blared through the speakers, and he nodded appreciatively, before turning it down to a more comfortable level. Apparently, Ronon also approved of Sheppard's taste in music, as he tapped his fingers on his legs in time with the beat. When he noticed Sheppard's gaze on him, he merely shrugged and continued tapping, and soon he allowed his foot to join them.

"When we get back to the motel, we should do some research, find out who those two guys are," Sheppard called back to Rodney over the music. Still engrossed in his current project, McKay waved his hand in agreement.

"Yes, yes. Whatever," he muttered in response. Then, he raised his voice a few decibels. "How can you listen to this stuff, anyway? I think my ears are bleeding already."

Sheppard looked to Ronon, who shrugged again, and Sheppard couldn't keep a laugh from escaping him. Being there, in a classic car with three of his best friends, listening to what he thought of as great music, reminded him of his teenage years, and it exhilarated him in a way that he hadn't felt for a long time. It just felt…right.

"John," Teyla's voice spoke into his ear as she leaned forward, "perhaps you should slow down a little? I do not think this is a very safe speed."

Sheppard shook his head. "Can't, Teyla. I have to drive with the flow of traffic. If we slow down now, we'll get rear-ended. Besides," he said, catching her eye again, "the Jumpers go much faster than this."

"Yeah, in space, where the only obstacle you have to dodge is the occasional meteor!" Rodney squealed from his seat, slouching down a little further. When Sheppard suddenly swerved into the next lane, Rodney yelled, "Oh, God, we're gonna die!"

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Quit being such a wuss, Rodney. We're fine."

Rodney scowled, and scooted right up against his side of the car. "Oh, that's right. I forgot that we're driving with Colonel Death-Wish! Great! If anyone happens to make it out of the fiery wreck, you can have all of my stuff. Well, except my scientific research. That goes to Jeannie, for obvious reasons."

Teyla turned to look at him, her eyes serious. "Rodney, we will be fine. No one is going to die."

He opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better of it, and just sat back and tried to concentrate on the scanner he still held in his hands.

"There's our hotel," Sheppard said then, and pointed out the windshield ahead of them. Everyone leaned forward to look.

"Where?" Ronon asked, trying to follow Sheppard's finger exactly. There was nothing there that he could see; nothing like the fabulous twenty-story buildings he'd seen on the main road a way back.

Sheppard frowned. "Right there." He tapped the glass in front of him, and Rodney squinted at something in the distance. When he finally saw the building Sheppard had indicated, his lip curled in disgust.

"You're referring to the little rat's nest ahead, I assume," he said, and Sheppard shot him a look.

"It's not a rat's nest. It's perfect for us – low key, no one asking too many questions."

"I am sure it is fine, John," Teyla assured him, and the smile quickly returned to his face.

"Thank you, Teyla."

When they had entered the small lobby, they discovered that no one was at the desk. Sheppard rang the bell on the counter, and then stood back to wait for the manager. A moment later, Ronon turned to Sheppard and asked, "So, how are we doing this?"

"Doing what?" Sheppard shrugged, as if he didn't have any idea what his tall friend was talking about, but he chewed his lip nervously.

Ronon crossed his arms. "We're sharing rooms, aren't we?"

"Look, there were only two rooms available. Every other hotel here is booked years ahead of time. What did you want me to do?"

"Hmm," Ronon replied. "So who's bunking with who?"

Sheppard looked around at his teammates. "Ronon, you stay with Teyla, and I'll share with Rodney."

"Wait, wait," Rodney put in then, "why can't I stay with Teyla? She doesn't snore, and I need my sleep, especially if I am being forced to sleep on a disgusting hotel mattress instead of mine…"

"McKay," Sheppard explained, his patience quickly running low, "we need one person with a gun in each room. Unless you want to become a late-night snack if the Wraith discover us here?"

Rodney's eyes widened suddenly. "Okay. So, I'm with you, then."

"Good."

The manager finally bustled in, and took a cursory glance at the four people before him.

"Hi," Sheppard greeted him. "We'd like two rooms, please."

"Everyone signs the book, rate's a hundred a night, no pets," the manager droned, having issued the same statement a million times before then. "Check out is eleven a.m."

"Okay." Sheppard took the register the man handed him, and signed it on an empty line. Each of his team took their turns, and then he gave it back, exchanging it for two room keys.

The manager sighed. "Rooms 12 and 13. Enjoy." With that, he left the office again, and Sheppard led the way down the hall to their rooms.

"Real chatterbox, that one," Rodney muttered sarcastically, and Ronon chuckled.

* * *

_TBC..._


	3. Six To One

_How's it going so far? Leave me some feedback and let me know...oh, and as time goes on, I may do a little Shep or Winchester whump eventually...and maybe some comfort, too...I usually don't know how it's gonna go until I write it, though, so...ENJOY!_

_Disclaimer...I'm just borrowing the characters from their respective owners...I DON'T own them..._

_PS...In my universe, Ronon knows how to drive. I'll explain that one later..._

* * *

Chapter 3

Sam and Dean lay in their beds, each pretending to be asleep for the other's sake. Sam' back was turned to his brother, his eyes carefully watching the window in front of him, and his ears listening to every noise that reached them. Somewhere down the hall, two men were talking, and outside a dog was barking incessantly, probably frustrated that he was gated in someone's backyard so late at night.

He was tired, but he felt the overwhelming need to keep watch for anything, or anyone, that might be lurking around the motel. Especially the creature they were trying to track down. Dean had told him the military was taking over the case, but after a few convincing words from Sam, they'd decided to continue their own investigation. After a few hours' "sleep", they'd agreed to start looking for the vampire, or whatever it was, in the morning.

"You know, I remember one of the first times Dad left us alone in a motel," Dean's voice suddenly cut through the darkness, and Sam turned over to look at him, Dean's features outlined by the moonlight filtering through the window.

"You woke up crying for him," Dean continued. "Of course, he wasn't there. So I sat beside you, holding you in my arms until you fell asleep again. Seems I did that a lot over the years."

Sam nodded once, swallowing down the memory of just how terrified he'd been back then. Not knowing if their dad would return, wondering if whatever creature he was tracking would come to get them, were scary thoughts for a little boy of five.

"Thanks for that, Dean," he said, genuinely grateful that he'd had a big brother to watch out for him.

"No problem. I don't even know why I was thinking about that." Then, his eyes narrowed. "Why are you still up, anyway?"

"Not tired," Sam lied. "What about you?"

"Same here."

Hiding a knowing smile, Sam reached over and flipped on the table lamp, then sat on the edge of his bed. Dean copied him, blinking a few times in the sudden bright light.

"So," Sam said, "what do you think about this guy, Sheppard?"

Dean shrugged. "He seems legit. Kind of a smart-ass, though."

Sam chuckled. "So are you."

Dean frowned, but continued anyway. "The woman seems like she might be military, and so does the tall guy, but not from the US. The other guy - the shorter one - definitely not military."

"Why are they interested in this case, anyway?"

"No clue. I've been thinkin' about that ever since we left the last victim's house."

Sam took a deep breath as he tried to think of a reason himself, but nothing came. He was just about to get up and do some research on his laptop, when a piercing scream filled the air outside the motel. Dean and Sam glanced at each other, and Dean said, "Let's go." They grabbed the guns they kept stashed under the beds, and ran from their room.

They skidded to a stop when they reached the parking lot. A woman lay on the ground near the dumpsters at the edge of the lot, a huge bloodstain on the front of her shirt. Standing over her was a strange man-creature; its skin was green and shiny, and a large black tattoo covered one side of its face. When it saw the brothers standing there, their guns pointed at its chest, it let out a loud scream, and ran at them, leaving its victim where she lie.

The boys fired the guns at the creature, but it only served to slow it down slightly. When they found they were out of ammo, they glanced at each other, not sure what to do next. The creature had almost reached them, when a new hail of bullets suddenly hit it, and it staggered back.

"Get down!" A voice shouted at them, and Sam and Dean ducked behind a nearby car, their heads just peeking up enough so they could see who was doing the shooting.

Sheppard and Ronon stood about ten feet away, emptying the clips of their handguns into the thing. Both men had the same hard, angry look in their eyes, and when the creature retreated behind the building, Ronon chased after it. Teyla and Rodney had now arrived, and were staring at the scene before them with a mixture of curiosity and alarm.

When Ronon returned, with a shake of his head to tell them he'd lost sight of the creature, Sheppard stalked over to where Dean and Sam now stood, still sheltered by the car.

"What the hell do you think you were doing?" Sheppard shouted at them, his jaw clenched so tightly they could've sworn they heard his teeth grind. "You could've gotten yourselves killed!"

"Hey, while you were gettin' your beauty sleep, we were out here trying to kill that thing!" Dean shouted back. This guy was beginning to get on his nerves, and he was sick of playing his version of "nice". "If it weren't for us…"

"I told you before," Sheppard cut him off, "we don't need your help." Then, he looked down at the guns the brothers clutched in their hands. "How'd you get those, anyway?"

"They were our Dad's," Sam intervened, before Dean could make another smart comment. "We're…hunters."

Sheppard's eyes narrowed. "Hunters, huh? I thought you were FBI?"

Sam swallowed, realizing he'd just blown their cover, and Sheppard nodded, his suspicions confirmed.

Then, he asked, "And just what do you plan on hunting in the middle of Vegas? Cougars?"

Dean ignored Sheppard's crack, and took a step forward, pointing his finger at him. "That, frankly, is none of your damn business."

Sheppard grinned then. "It is my business, because you're interfering with a military investigation, after I warned you to back off."

"We hunt monsters," Sam blurted out, and Dean glared angrily at him.

"Monsters?" The look on Sheppard's face was priceless; he obviously couldn't believe what he was hearing. He looked at Ronon then. "This ought to be good."

"Yep," Ronon agreed.

"Perhaps we should talk about it later. This woman is still alive," Teyla said from where she knelt, her hand on the woman's neck, feeling for her pulse. "But not for much longer, if we do not get her help."

Sheppard walked over to her and crouched down, also pressing his fingers to her neck. Her pulse was weak, but it was there. "We gotta get her to the hospital. Let's get her in the car." He tossed the keys to Ronon. "Pull it up over here, okay?"

"You got it," Ronon replied, and hurried across the parking lot. Sheppard was instantly glad that he'd taught the large Satedan to drive a month ago, and more glad that Ronon was a quick learner.

"What about the Wraith?" Rodney asked then. "We're not just gonna let it roam around out there somewhere, are we?"

"Wraith?" Dean asked. "But I thought…"

"Dean," Sam said, shaking his head to warn his brother to drop it for now. Then, he stepped forward. "We can help with that."

"Thanks, but we can handle it," Sheppard replied, a genuinely apologetic look on his face.

"Hey, we're here, we're already involved. You're not getting rid of us that easily," Dean argued, as Ronon pulled Sheppard's Camaro close enough to load the woman easily into the back seat.

Sheppard stared at him, debating within himself. Then, he sighed and stood up. "Fine. We'll make a plan as soon as we get back from the hospital."

"Are you serious, Colonel?" McKay asked him from where he stood, well away from the Wraith's body. "They can't possibly find out about…"

Sheppard's eyes got that hard look again as he glanced over at him. "McKay, we need their help, like it or not. From this point on…" he stopped, realizing he didn't know the brothers' real names.

"Dean," Dean replied, then jutted his chin toward his brother. "And that's Sam."

"Okay," Sheppard said, then turned to Rodney, "from this point on, Dean and Sam are with us. Any luck tracking the Wraith?"

"Seems like he headed into the commercial district. Other than that…" he shrugged, and Sheppard nodded in understanding.

"I guess we'll have to play a little hide-and-seek, then."

When they arrived at the nearest hospital. Sheppard dealt with the doctor, giving his information and the order to call him if her condition changed, and then rushed back out to the car, once again ignoring McKay's constant protests about letting Sam and Dean in on the case.

* * *

Back in the motel, the Winchesters sat in Sheppard's room. Sam sat on the end of Sheppard's bed, looking like a kid in the principal's office, and Dean lounged comfortably in a chair, his ankles crossed.

Ronon leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, trying to look interested even though he really wasn't, and Teyla was perched in the chair near Dean, her dark eyes wide, an inquisitive look on her face. She wondered to herself what the brothers had meant when they said they were hunters, and who they really were, where they were from. Sheppard stood somewhere near the middle of the room, though he looked as relaxed as Dean, and Rodney was seated on his own bed, fiddling with some device he'd pulled out of a bag on the floor.

"So," Sheppard finally said, "you said you hunted monsters?"

"Pretty much," Dean replied.

"What kind of 'monsters' are we talkin' here? Bigfoot?"

Dean smirked. "More like ghosts, demons, werewolves, vampires. Basically anything that likes dark, scary places. Even killed a Rugaru once."

Rodney frowned. "Rugaru? What the hell is that?"

"That's what I said," Dean quipped, but fell silent when a dark look crossed Sheppard's face.

"And your dad gave you those guns to hunt them with," the Colonel said, more than asked.

"Something like that."

"I take it, then, that he's a hunter, too?" Sheppard asked.

From beside him, Sam said, "Was."

He turned to look at the younger brother, whose eyes were filled with sadness.

"He's dead."

"Sorry," Sheppard offered sincerely. "How'd it happen?"

"Demon." Dean's voice told Sheppard that was as much information he was going to get about it, and he wisely took the hint. "So, what was that thing back there, that…Wraith?"

"It's a creature from another galaxy," Sheppard replied. Rodney opened his mouth to stop him from giving more information, but Sheppard glared at him, and he closed it again.

"Another galaxy?" Dean scoffed. "Right, and I'm the long-lost son of Ozzy Osbourne."

"How is life on other planets any less likely than demons walking around on Earth?" Rodney returned, and Dean shrugged that he had a point.

"So, what, you guys ride around in spaceships and all that? Like Star Trek?" Sam asked.

Sheppard nodded. "Something like that. Actually, we have a base on another planet, and got word that a Wraith had somehow gotten to Earth. We couldn't let him send Earth's location to the rest of his kind, so we used a ship to get back here."

Dean was still a little skeptical, but what Rodney had pointed out had made some sense. If there were such things as demons, then why not aliens?

He stared at Ronon then, and asked, "I take it you're from another planet, too?"

Ronon cocked an eyebrow as he replied, "Yep."

"Huh. And you, too?" He asked Teyla, who nodded politely. "I think my 'weird-meter' just exploded. Thanks for that."

Sheppard chuckled. "That's about how I felt when I found all this out a few years ago." His cell phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it out and answered it. He walked away from the group a little way, standing in the doorway to the bathroom as he listened.

Everyone watched him silently, knowing that it must be the doctor calling about the woman they'd rescued earlier. When he hung up and returned, he confirmed their suspicions.

"She's gonna be okay, but she's fairly freaked out. They had to sedate her for the night, so she wouldn't pull the stitches."

"We should go talk to her in the morning," Dean said.

"Whoa…we?" Rodney asked. "Look, that Wraith is our problem."

"Now just wait a minute…" Dean began, and Sam stood up to join his brother in protesting.

"Honestly this isn't your fight. It's ours. You have no idea what you're dealing with here…"

Sam leaned forward, interrupting him. "Like hell it isn't our fight. That thing is killing people on _our_ planet…"

"Yes, and it's my planet, too! I don't think you understand…"

"Rodney!" Sheppard shouted then, and everyone stopped to look at him.

"What?" Rodney shouted, still agitated. When he realized who he was talking to, he shrugged at him apologetically.

Sheppard frowned at him, but only asked, "What is that beeping noise?"

"Beeping?" He listened for a moment, until he also heard what Sheppard had. He followed the noise, rifling through his bag until he pulled out another device. "Oh, no."

"I thought we were done with surprises," Sheppard reminded him.

"We were," Rodney replied.

"Then what's the 'uh-oh' for?" Ronon asked, pushing himself away from the wall and taking a step toward him.

"I finished recalibrating the scanner a while ago. I managed to filter out any unnecessary energy signatures, and then upped the amplitude on it so we could track any Wraith within fifty square miles. I'd forgotten about it until now, but…"

"Rodney!" Sheppard cried in exasperation. As he glared at Rodney, the scientist lifted his head to stare back.

In a voice barely above a whisper, he replied, "There was more than one Wraith here on Earth."

"How many?" Teyla asked, as Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

Consulting his device, McKay replied, "Two more, just outside the city limits. Three Wraith, here on Earth…" he finished in a whisper.

"Which way?" Dean asked, a sinking feeling deep in his gut. Even before Rodney spoke, he knew where they would be.

"East."

"The diner," Dean and Sam said together, and Sheppard nodded, as he'd had the same thought.

"We'd better get out there," Sheppard said, grabbing his keys from the bedside table.

Dean started for the door, his own keys already out in his hand. "Right behind you."

* * *

_TBC..._


	4. Snake Eyes

_AN: Sorry it's been so long, guys! Hubby went on a hunting trip, then my bro-in-law had a medical emergency, then my last baby had to go to Kindergarten Screening (AAAGHHH! I'm almost free from kids during the day! Too bad School's almost out for the Summer, so I'll have all 4 home every DAY! LOL)...it's been a crazy month or so. Anyway, hope you enjoy this latest chapter...I had fun with it. As always, R/R please!_

_PS...I couldn't help myself...had to include a little ShepWhump in for good measure. Sorry! (Or am I?)_

* * *

Chapter 4

Under the light of a single streetlamp, Sheppard's Camaro squealed into the diner's parking lot, the gravel underneath spraying away from his tires in a wide arc. He'd been careful to leave the headlights off as soon as the diner was in sight, and tried to park as far away as possible so no one would be alerted to their presence. He was glad to see only one other car in the parking lot – most likely belonging to the waitress, Shannon – and thanked Heaven for that small piece of good luck. He just hoped she was still alive.

As soon as Sheppard slid out of the driver's seat, Dean's car growled up next to him, and Sheppard knew all his preparations for staying undetected were fairly useless. However, he could not smother a smile of satisfaction as he heard classic rock music pouring from the Impala's speakers. _Nice_, he thought, _the boy has taste, I'll give 'im that. Too bad he's as stubborn as a mule._

The music was abruptly cut off when Dean shut off the car's engine, and his door squeaked loudly in protest as he opened it to get out. If this were any other night, he'd have considered sitting back and having a beer with Sheppard, swapping stories about girls and cars. But not tonight. Now, there was only one girl on everyone's mind – Shannon. They had to get to her before those creatures did. If they didn't…Dean visibly shuddered. He didn't want to think about that.

"Okay," Sheppard began as his team and the two Winchesters formed a loose circle around him, "everyone listen up, and please, follow my directions closely." He glanced pointedly at the brothers. "Ronon, Sam and I will go through the front. Dean, Teyla, and Rodney, you go around back. Stay low, and watch out for weapons-fire."

Dean was about to comment, but Sheppard continued before he could utter a word.

"Trust me, there _will_ be weapons-fire. Remember, there's a strong possibility that there are other innocent people in there, so don't go firing willy-nilly into the place."

Everyone nodded, and followed Sheppard over to the trunk of his car, which contained a number of black duffel bags and cases. He unzipped a duffel and pulled out a P-90, then handed it to Teyla. He handed one more to Dean, set one aside for himself, and then moved aside so Ronon could retrieve his strange-looking weapon from a bag.

"Nice gun," Dean commented, and Ronon merely grunted in agreement. When Ronon was again out of the way, Sheppard unsnapped one of the cases and removed four handguns, two of which he gave to Sam and Rodney, and the remaining two he tucked into the waistband at the back of his jeans. He opened another bag and retrieved handfuls of magazines for the various guns he'd passed out, before quietly shutting the trunk once more.

"Let's get this done, people," he muttered, starting toward the diner. He could already feel adrenaline pumping through his body, heightening his senses and making his heart beat hard in his chest. It was the same feeling he'd gotten when he was a helicopter pilot, and he couldn't help but feel a slight pang of loss inside him. He'd loved flying – he could've done it for the rest of his life – and he'd had about a tenth of the responsibility he did now. On the other hand, if he hadn't joined the Atlantis expedition, he wouldn't have met Teyla, or Ronon. _Of course, if you'd stayed on Earth, you'd never have woken the Wraith, either,_ his mind chided. Gritting his teeth, he told his mind to shut up, and forced himself to focus on the current mission instead.

Sheppard positioned himself to the left of the front door, and Sam crouched beside him, while Ronon flattened his back against the right side, his gun held up to his chest. Though the large man took large breaths, his eyes remained calm as he waited for Sheppard's signal. Sheppard, meanwhile, slowly inched himself upward until his eyes were just peering above the windowsill beside the door. Through the dirty glass, he could see the two Wraith standing in the dining area, their yellow eyes sweeping their surroundings. They were looking for something; Sheppard was certain it was Shannon they were searching for, which meant that she was still alive, and probably hiding somewhere. He knew she didn't have long before she was discovered, as the diner wasn't exactly large by any standards.

He nudged Sam with his shoulder slightly, silently telling him they were ready, and then nodded once at Ronon. Before the Colonel even fully raised his head again, Ronon swung out from his hiding place, kicked in the door, and rushed inside, blasting both of the Wraith with his weapon. They were stunned, but quickly recovered and rushed toward the three men, roaring angrily.

* * *

Dean stood stock-still beside the back door, trying to urge his nerves into relative quiet and only barely succeeding. Teyla was standing on the opposite side, her eyes locked on his as she tried to ignore Rodney's jittery body crouched beside her. No matter how many times he faced the Wraith, he could never seem to lose his fear of them. Dean noticed Rodney's unease, and grinned in sympathy. He could certainly understood how Rodney felt; he was fairly sure he felt the same way right at this moment.

He only just caught the motion of Teyla's head as she gave him the go-ahead, and forced himself to clear his mind as he turned and kicked in the door. Though it was dark inside, and the Wraiths' screams combined with the sound of the P-90's firing was enough to make anyone feel as if they would go crazy, he kept himself moving forward, even as his brain shouted at him to turn around and run. He even managed to shoot one of the Wraith in the back before Teyla pulled him down and to the right, behind the counter, just as Sheppard's body was flung into the wall beside them. Dean could hear the whoosh of air escape from Sheppard's lungs as he hit a wooden post, but the stubborn Colonel refused to give up despite the pain, and stood up once more to face their enemy.

From what he could see as he peeked over the counter, Dean could tell these people dealt with the Wraith on a near-daily basis. Ronon remained calm, his breathing even as he fired his energy weapon over and over. Teyla was the same way as she squeezed the trigger of her P-90, her dark brown eyes sedate, almost hollow-looking, as if the Wraith had hurt her in some way deeper than anyone could ever fathom.

In contrast, Rodney was nearly hyperventilating beside her, but he still managed to fire off a burst of shots here and there, always before sinking back down behind the counter and making a sort of whimpering sound.

Sam, who was simultaneously disgusted and intrigued by these creatures, continued to fire at them as if he were on auto-pilot. Sheppard noticed how open the younger man was just then, and grabbed him by the jacket, pulling him out of the way just as one of the Wraith threw a table across the room. It crashed into the wall behind them, creating a huge hole in the plaster before dropping to the floor.

After 10 minutes of close-quarters combat, only one of the Wraith was dead. The remaining Wraith seemed weakened, but somehow even angrier than before, and he rushed at Sheppard and grabbed him by the neck, growling hideously. Though his air supply was cut off, Sheppard writhed in the creature's grasp, trying to find a way to get out.

"Dean!" Sam suddenly shouted over the noise of the fighting.

"What?" Dean shouted back.

"I'm out!"

"Out?" Dean repeated, confused.

"Of bullets," Sam said, in a voice that told Dean his younger brother was more exhausted than he'd let on.

"Oh. Me too."

"I have not seen Wraith this strong in a long time," Teyla mused aloud, and Rodney made a noise in his throat.

"They've obviously been eating well. What with the billions of humans on Earth and all." Then, in a rare display of courage, he stood up from behind the counter and emptied his last clip into the Wraith's back. It had little effect, other than to force the Wraith to drop Sheppard, who had been slowly losing consciousness.

When Sheppard hit the floor, a sharp pain coursed through his spine, and he bit back the urge to cry out, instead gathering his strength to roll out of the way of the Wraith's heavy boot as it attempted to stomp on his torso.

"Ronon!" He gasped, knowing the Satedan would come to his aid. But it was Teyla who answered him.

"He is unconscious."

"Great," Sheppard muttered, as he ignored the searing pain running down his back and stood up. _If I'm gonna go out, dammit, I'm gonna go out fighting_, he thought to himself. _I'm sick of these bastards thinking they're gonna invade my home_. Then, he shook his head. No, Earth wasn't his home anymore. It had never felt like much of one, anyway. Atlantis was his home. But he would still be damned if he let the Wraith conquer six-something billion humans. He might not have been able to stop the Wraith from culling Teyla's world, as well as others, but that ended here.

Right now.

Sheppard turned to face the Wraith, his hands on his back as if to ease the pain there.

"Okay, buddy," he said, in between catching his breath. "It's over. You win. Just tell us how you got to Earth, and we'll let you have it."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances from across the room. _Was the man crazy? What did he mean?_

The Wraith cocked his head, studying Sheppard's expression intensely. Finally, he said, "We found your friend. The one you call Todd."

"Todd?" Sheppard repeated. "But he didn't know Earth's location."

"Oh, but he did, when he stole the information from your computers on Atlantis."

Sheppard grimaced at the news. "Figures. "

"Who's Todd?" Dean asked Teyla, who gave him something like a half-smile before responding.

"He is a Wraith who has helped us on some occasions against his own kind. Usually for his own selfish reasons."

"Sounds familiar," Dean muttered, thinking of Ruby, the demon who had charmed Sam into helping her kill Lilith.

Teyla continued, "Colonel Sheppard gave him the name Todd when they were both being held as prisoners."

"Gotta love 'frenemies'," Dean joked, but when Teyla narrowed her eyes in confusion, he added, "never mind."

"So," Sheppard said then, slowly reaching for the handguns he'd tucked into his jeans earlier, "I take it there are other ships heading toward Earth right now?"

The Wraith smiled. "Not quite. We agreed to send them a subspace message after we'd determined whether Earth was…worth the trouble."

"Oh. Well, that's good, then." Sheppard's hands slid around the handgrips of his guns, and he relished the touch of their cool metal on his skin as he eased them from their hiding place. "Then you'll be the last Wraith to set foot on this planet."

Too late, the Wraith realized what Sheppard was doing, and two bullets immediately struck the creature in the neck. Black blood trickled from the holes they'd created, and he staggered forward, grabbing for Sheppard in a last attempt to kill him. Unfortunately, Sheppard wasn't quick enough to move out of the way, due to the severe beating he'd received before, and he was once more slammed onto his back on the tiled floor of the diner. This time, he couldn't keep a strangled cry from escaping him. The room began to swim around him, and he knew he wasn't far from slipping into unconsciousness. He blinked rapidly and calmed his breathing, waiting for the feeling to pass, even as he watched the Wraith bring it's slitted hand down toward his chest.

"Dean! Help him!" Rodney urged then. Dean stared at him incredulously. He was out of ammo, and after seeing the pain Sheppard had endured at the hands of these creatures, he knew he wouldn't last long, either.

"No!" Sheppard cried out then. "Get out of here!"

"Not a chance," Sam replied, picking up a piece of the table that had broken against the wall. He rushed at the Wraith and slammed the chunk of table over its head. Nothing happened, except for the Wraith's other hand sweeping back and knocking Sam backward. He was able to stay on his feet, but he knew there would be a wicked bruise across his chest the next day.

Just as the Wraith's feeding hand made contact with Sheppard's chest, causing an intense wave of pain and nausea to course through the Colonel's body, a clear and obviously feminine voice cut through the air.

"Eat this, douchebag!"

Sheppard watched in surprise as the Wraith's head suddenly exploded above him, and the body slumped over, landing on top of his already throbbing chest. Sam rushed forward once more and pulled the corpse off Sheppard, then took his hand and helped him to his feet, while Teyla and Rodney went to look after Ronon. When Sheppard was sure the dizziness had subsided enough for him to remain standing, he stared at the person responsible for the Wraith's sudden dispatch.

"Shannon?" Sam, Dean, and Sheppard asked in unison.

"I thought I told you boys to stay out of trouble," she growled at the Winchesters as she tossed her double-barreled shotgun onto the floor.

"How…?"

"Did I manage to escape? There's a cellar under a trap door in the kitchen," she shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"But where did you get the gun?" Sam asked, wiping the viscous black blood that had gotten on his hands off on his pants.

Shannon smiled. "I'm a hunter, like you two."

"Excuse me?" Dean asked. He was becoming more confused by the moment, and it irritated him.

"What? You think I wouldn't be able to tell another hunter – or two – when they enter my diner? Especially two as famous as the Winchester brothers? Gotta tell ya, you're both cuter than I thought you'd be."

Dean nodded, speechless for once. He just couldn't grasp how he'd missed the fact that _she_ was a hunter.

Shannon swept her long bangs out of her eyes as she continued, "My parents don't know, really. But they don't actually run the diner anymore, anyway. They moved to California two years ago, and left my brothers in charge of everything. One night, after the customers had all gone, a group of men came in, and killed my brothers. I later found out they were vampires, and I promised myself that I would find them and kill them. I did, and I happened to run into a more experienced hunter, who taught me everything he knew. The rest is history, as they say."

"I hate to butt in here," Sheppard said then, stepping forward to lean against the counter to ease the throbbing in his entire upper body, "but I'd really like to get this place cleaned up before daylight. Wouldn't you?"

She fixed her brown eyes on Sheppard's face, and then nodded emphatically. "Of course." Then, she turned to Teyla, "Why don't you help him to the room off to the right; there's a bed in there he can lie down on."

"I don't need to 'lie down'. I need to get into contact with my superiors so we can get these bodies the hell out of here," he argued.

"John," Teyla pleaded, knowing how much pain he must be in, but he remained firm.

"I'm fine. I promise I'll let you drag me to the infirmary as soon as this is over."

Teyla raised an eyebrow. She knew how much Sheppard despised the infirmary, no matter how gently Keller handled him, so for him to say such a thing was quite rare indeed.

"Very well. Perhaps I could sweep the floor for you?" She asked Shannon, who nodded.

"Sure. Sam, could you help straighten the tables and chairs?"

"You got it," he replied with a small smile.

Though he still looked a little dazed, the determined set of Ronon's jaw showed that he wasn't about to just stand around and do nothing.

"I'll start dragging the bodies out back."

"I'm with you," Sheppard said then, and Ronon nodded.

After they had gone, Shannon asked, "So what were those…things?"

Sam shot a pensive look at her, as if deciding whether to tell her the truth or not, and finally replied, "You don't wanna know."

"But…" she began, but Dean cut her off.

"Trust us. You really don't."

* * *

_TBC..._


	5. Breaking Even

_AN: Hi! New Chapter is up! So, a little thing about the second half of this chapter...it's a little Dean/Sam-centric. I wanted to even the Whump out, so...also, next chapter will be a little SGA-centric, and then probably merge together again later on. Hope you enjoy, R&R and all that...the "usual". LOL_

* * *

Chapter 5

Colonel Sheppard leaned against the side of his car, looking up at the stars with his arms crossed loosely over his aching chest. A soft, cool breeze drifted around him, gently caressing his dark hair and chilling the sweat that slicked his forehead. His back twinged in protest of his standing posture, but he ignored it, far too deep in thought to allow himself to move.

As he stood there, realizing just how far away from home he suddenly felt, he was aware of another presence on his right side. Without turning his head, he flicked his eyes to the side and saw Dean standing there, two beer bottles dangling between the fingers of his right hand. When he realized he'd been noticed, Dean held out one of the bottles to Sheppard, who took it with a smile.

"Thanks," Sheppard said as he twisted the cap off the beer.

Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "Figured you'd need one, after all that."

Not wishing to recall the events inside the diner right then, Sheppard merely shrugged back and took a long swig of his beer.

"So, uh, what now?" Dean asked. Figuring that bringing the Colonel a beer allowed him to join him, he also leaned against the Camaro, which brought no objection from Sheppard.

Sheppard swallowed, savoring the cool, crisp taste of the beer as it slid down his throat. "Now, we find the last Wraith hiding out around here, and make sure he hasn't activated that message beacon. Then, we get back on board our ship, and go home."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it, and closed it again. Instead, he drank from his bottle and looked up at the sky in silence.

"You know," Sheppard said then, "when I first joined the expedition and we got stranded on Atlantis, all I could think about was finding a way to get back to Earth. I mean, I missed flying choppers, I missed my friends…" he sighed. "For a while there, I even missed my family."

This made Dean curious, but he wisely decided not to interrupt with any questions. Sometimes, he knew, it was better to just let a man talk.

"But after a while, I met Teyla and Ronon, and they became my family, along with everyone else on Atlantis, of course."

Dean nodded in understanding. Though his own mother and father were gone, he still had Sam and Bobby; and even Castiel had grown to feel like a brother. He could be a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but Dean wouldn't trade Cass for the world. Dean saw the same thing in Sheppard when the Colonel looked at his friends, and it made him smile, even as his heart ached for all the people he'd lost – Mom and Dad, Jo and Ellen, Ash, Anna...it seemed to him most days that the list went on forever.

"Now," Sheppard continued, "I don't think of Earth as home anymore. Because the only people who have ever been there for me when I needed them, the only people I would trust with my life, live in the Pegasus Galaxy. Atlantis is my home. And in some strange way, I've felt like it was meant to be that way my whole life."

Dean was silent for so long, Sheppard had to turn toward him to see if he was even still there. The Colonel grinned then.

"Sorry if I was rambling," he said, before taking another long swig.

"No, you weren't," Dean replied. "I was just…thinking."

"About your dad?" Sheppard asked perceptively, and Dean nodded.

"Sometimes I just get so tired of this. Of hunting. I mean, in the beginning it was kinda fun, you know? Just me and Sam, driving around the country together, catching up on the years we missed together. Sure, every once in a while we came across some creature, some ghost or psycho; but as long as we were together, I thought everything would be okay."

Sheppard nodded. "Things don't always work out the way you expect."

Dean made a noise in his throat. "That's an understatement." He held up his beer bottle, noticing that he'd drunk three-quarters of the amber liquid inside. "Anyway, then one day we met the Devil, and all hell broke loose. Literally."

Dean's statement puzzled Sheppard, but he chose not to ask him to elaborate. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest of that story.

"Anyway," Dean said, once more looking upward. "I was supposed to come out here and find out how you were."

Sheppard grinned his lopsided smile again, though it came out more like a half-grimace now. "What'd you do, draw the short straw?"

Dean stuck out his bottom lip. "Paper-rock-scissors."

"Ah," Sheppard replied in understanding. "Well, you can all rest easy. I'm a little bruised, but I'm fine."

Dean eyed the man before him suspiciously, but merely shrugged. Obviously, Sheppard wasn't one to complain about his injuries, and Dean respected that, no matter how reckless an attitude it could sometimes be.

"Good to hear," was all he said, before finishing off the last of his beer. They stood in companionable silence for a while, simply enjoying the quiet of the Nevada desert and the sight of the bright stars above them.

"So," Sheppard said, leaning toward Dean conspiratorially and nodding toward the car, "You wanna take her for a spin?"

"You don't have to ask me twice," Dean replied with a wide grin, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

Sheppard handed him the keys, and moved around to the passenger-side of the car. "Just try not to break her."

As they slid into their respective seats, Dean shook his head. "Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

Las Vegas, NV

Sam flopped down on his bed in the motel, his muscles screaming for rest. His brain felt foggy, even as a thousand thoughts churned through it, and as a result they were all jumbled together and nearly incomprehensible. He contemplated just closing his eyes and falling asleep and staying that way for a year, like a modern-day Rip Van Winkle. But, he knew, he couldn't do that. There were people who needed him, and as long as that was the case, the best he could manage was a few hours' rest.

He heard Dean's voice from the other side of the room then, and he blinked rapidly to clear the fogginess in his head.

"Bed already, Sammy? It's only midnight."

"You're a funny guy, Dean," Sam's muffled voice said, and Dean chuckled.

"Just kidding, little brother."

Upon hearing that, he forced himself to sit up, and turned to face Dean. "I know, _big_ brother," he replied sarcastically. A scowl had plastered itself on his lips, and though Sam's gaze was focused on the bedspread beneath him, Dean could see the dark circles under his brother's eyes.

"Seriously, though, Sam," Dean began cautiously, "you should get some rest. There's nothing else for us to do right now."

Sam shook his head. "I'm fine, Dean. I just need some coffee or something. Besides, I should probably look around the 'net for omens or something."

Dean cast his eyes heavenward for a moment, choosing his words as carefully as he ever did. "Sam, I know you think you're fine, but you're not."

Sam cocked his head to the side, unsure if the words he'd heard had really come from Dean's mouth. "What?"

The elder Winchester came to sit on the bed next to Sam's, his elbows resting on his knees as he scrubbed his hands over his face. When he looked at Sam, his eyes were serious.

"Ever since we were younger, I promised Dad I'd always look out for you."

"Dean," Sam interjected, ready to point out that he was an adult now, and didn't need Dean's protection, but Dean shook his head forcefully.

"Sam, shut the hell up for a minute!"

Sam stuck out his chin defiantly, but said nothing, and Dean sighed before continuing.

"I know that you're not a kid anymore, Sam, but you'll always be my little brother. I never want to see anything bad happen to you. I know I can't protect you from everything – God knows I've already failed a few times – but dammit, Sam, I can see what you're doing to yourself, and I'm not gonna let you do it."

"Dean, I'm…"

Frustrated beyond reason, Dean stood up and glared down at Sam. "If you say 'fine', I'm going to freaking kill you!"

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Sam's eyes closed, and Dean took a few deep breaths to calm himself. When he was under control again, he sat back down, and reached across the space between the beds to put his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Sam. Really, I do. But right now, the best way you can help me, is to get some rest." He squeezed Sam's shoulder once. "Please."

Sam stared at his brother, knowing that nothing he could say would convince Dean that he didn't need it. The real problem, the one he couldn't tell Dean about, was that although he really wanted to sleep, he couldn't. There was a constant gnawing in the pit of his stomach, a deep fear that only got worse whenever he closed his eyes. It was the feeling he got whenever something horrible happened, only now, he didn't know what that something was. Night after night, he tossed and turned, searching his mind to try and find out what was coming, but nothing came, and all he got for the trouble was more exhaustion.

"Okay," he said finally. "You win, Dean. I'll get some sleep."

Dean eyed him until he was convinced, and then dropped his hand from Sam's shoulder.

"Okay?" He asked, and Sam nodded.

"Okay."

"All right, then," Dean said, "I'm gonna go out to the car for a minute. Be right back."

He stayed another moment, watching as Sam climbed under the covers on his bed and turned to face the window. Then, he flicked out the light and felt his way to the door, quietly stepping out into the hall. He took one last look at his little brother's prone form, and then softly shut the door.

As soon as Dean had gone, Sam flipped over onto his back to stare at the white ceiling above him. He slipped his hands under his head and tried to close his eyes, but though he was physically and emotionally tired, they wouldn't obey him. After a few minutes, he got too warm under the blankets, so he stripped off his t-shirt and pulled the covers away from his chest, sighing as the cool air circulating through the room brushed over his bare chest. His hand drifted over his left side, gingerly feeling the bruise he'd known was coming when the Wraith had swatted him, but it was wasn't as bad as most of the injuries he'd gotten throughout his five years as a hunter. In terms of wounds, it was little more than a scrape.

The gnawing feeling in his stomach swiftly returned then, and with a vengeance. It roiled inside him, making him feel nauseous and hot all over despite the air conditioning, and he curled onto his side, wrapping his arms around his waist. He tried to breathe normally, but the gnawing soon turned into a sharp pain, like someone was stabbing him in the gut.

Sam screwed his eyes shut, desperately trying to keep himself from feeling like he was falling into an abyss, and he soon found that he was shivering uncontrollably. Suddenly, he felt a rush of air nearby, and he slowly opened his eyes.

"Oh, God," Sam breathed as he saw who was standing there, at the foot of his bed.

"Not hardly," said the man, smiling cynically. "But I can help you out with that pain."

"Go to hell," Sam replied, his anger blocking out some of the nausea. He pushed himself to a sitting position, and glared at the man, as if his very gaze could make him vanish.

The man chuckled and shook his head. "Already been there. Not too fond of going back, as you well know." He leaned forward then, and Sam could see the various wounds and blisters on the man's face.

Sam's gaze hardened even more, despite the intense stabbing in his stomach. "Suck it up, Lucifer. I'm not saying 'yes'. I'll never say it."

At this, the man's eyes slid closed in disappointment. "Sam, Sam. You can't stop the inevitable. Might as well get it over with now, before more people die needlessly."

"They already have," Sam whispered, his voice full of loss.

"Some, yes," Lucifer replied. "But what about Dean? And Bobby? Would you really sacrifice them to their fate, should you keep refusing me?"

Sam couldn't answer that. Though he knew that they would be killed if he said no to the Devil, he also guessed that his saying yes wouldn't guarantee their safety, either.

Finally, he said, "I won't allow you to use me to kill millions of innocent people."

The man smiled again. He knew the game Sam was playing – hell, he'd invented it.

"Ahh, your loyalty knows no bounds, Sam. Well, have it your way then. I'm always a word away."

"No," Sam rasped, the pain inside him starting to rise sharply. Then, he gathered all his strength and curled his lip in a wicked sneer. "Now get the hell out of here and leave me alone."

Lucifer shrugged as if to say "at least I tried", and turned away to do as Sam asked. But right before he disappeared, he said, "You'll change your mind. They always do."

A gust of wind announced that the man had indeed gone, and Sam collapsed back onto his bed, feeling more drained than he ever had. The pain in his stomach had faded to a dull ache, and this time, his eyes slid closed of their own accord.

He didn't realize that he'd fallen asleep until he heard Dean come back into the room at 6 the next morning.

* * *

_TBC..._


	6. Taking a Hit

_AN: Okay, so I got a little ambitious (and inspired), and decided to write another chapter. LOTS of ShepWhump, and Dean comes to the rescue! Please, go easy on my knowledge of Dean's "emergency" medicine...I just...I'm not a doctor or anything close, so forgive me!_

_Hope you enjoy it! R&R as usual, folks!_

* * *

Chapter 6

"Rodney!" Sheppard called from behind the half-closed bathroom door, over the sound of the water running in the sink, "you find that message beacon yet?"

Dr. McKay rolled his eyes in exasperation. Sheppard had asked the same question three times already, and each time, he'd given the same answer.

"I'm working on it!" he called back for what was now the fourth time.

"Well, work faster!"

McKay scowled darkly. He considered telling his friend just what "finding" the beacon involved, but decided against it. Sheppard would just rattle off something about needing to keep the Wraith from finding Earth, which, by the way, Rodney understood only too well.

As Sheppard emerged from the bathroom, there was a knock on the motel room door, and he cautiously opened it to find Teyla and Ronon standing there.

"Hey, guys," Sheppard greeted them, glad that he'd thrown a shirt on immediately after his shower. The wound he'd received from the Wraith was still quite nasty-looking, and he didn't want anyone on his team to be worried about him. Between the gash on his chest and his bruised back, the painkillers had to work pretty hard, but they were keeping up so far.

Teyla entered the room first, and took a seat on the edge of Sheppard's disheveled bed. She leaned down and pulled up a sheet that had slipped halfway off, then followed that with a spare pillow that had somehow found itself underneath the bed. Though Sheppard was mildly embarrassed to have her cleaning up after him, he merely caught her eye and shrugged, and she smiled serenely back at him.

"So what's up?" Ronon asked then, taking up his usual spot against the wall.

"Nothing yet," Sheppard replied. "Rodney's still working on it."

"Do we know if the beacon has been activated?" Teyla asked, her dark eyes wide.

"No," Rodney replied from his bed, where he was fiddling with a palm-sized device. "All I can do for now is try and pinpoint the energy the device is giving off."

"Can't the Daedalus do that?" Ronon asked. Technical language was never his strong suit, and frankly, it bored him.

Again, Rodney shook his head. "It could, if their sensors hadn't been damaged in the last battle with the Wraith. Look, I've got it narrowed down to a fifty-mile radius. In an hour or two, I could probably shrink that down by 45 miles or so. I just need time."

Sheppard, who was horrible at waiting, sighed and rubbed a hand through his still-damp hair. He wracked his brain, trying to find a way to help Rodney out in his task, but nothing came.

Finally, he shrugged at Teyla and Ronon and said, "Well, since we're stuck with nothing to do, whaddya say we go grab some breakfast?"

Rodney waved at him without looking up and said, "Just bring me back a coffee, please. Black, no sugar. Oh, and a donut or something if you can."

Sheppard shot a look at the other two, and then replied, "Sure, Rodney. While I'm at it, why don't I just bring an entire Starbucks here to you, and you can have whatever you want?"

"Uh-huh. Okay, sure," Rodney replied, obviously not hearing a word his friend had said, and continued to tap away on his computer pad.

Exchanging a grin with Teyla, Sheppard motioned toward the door. "Come on. I saw a diner down the street."

* * *

When they arrived at the café Sheppard had indicated earlier, they were surprised to find it quite empty, other than a few customers who seemed to be regulars. The three of them took a table near the front window, so they could watch people as they passed by. A waitress appeared shortly after and took their orders from them, returning soon after with coffee for Sheppard and Ronon, and tea for Teyla.

As they sipped their drinks, they watched as the people outside went to work or school, getting into cars and onto buses, sometimes greeting others on the street before continuing on their way. Ronon and Teyla made comments about the strange habits of Earth, and Sheppard would slip in a short story or funny remark in between, making the other two laugh raucously.

Somewhere near the middle of their breakfast of waffles, bacon and fresh berries, Teyla's sharp gaze caught Sheppard massaging his chest, and she widened her eyes at him.

"John," she scolded lightly, "your wound is bothering you."

"Nah," he replied, trying to brush off her concern. "My muscles are just a little sore, that's all."

"I have noticed you wincing all through our meal. Perhaps you should return to the Daedalus and allow Doctor Keller to examine you."

Sheppard, who was about to take a sip of his orange juice, set the glass down and stared back at her, attempting to charm her with his boyish grin. "Teyla," he said, "I'm all right. Besides, she's busy with some flu-thing that's goin' around up there. I can make it until this whole mess is all cleared up."

His charms did nothing to allay her concern, however, and she leaned forward to make her point more forcefully. "I do not think that is wise," she murmured. "It could become infected."

"Teyla," he warned, and she sat back, defeated. "I said I'll be fine. Let's finish up, and go see how Rodney's doing."

Ronon had watched the exchange with a mixture of concern and amusement. It never failed to amaze him how worried a woman could become when one of her friends was in potential danger, often pushing the issue until that friend came near their breaking point.

But he had to admit, Sheppard's avoidance of treatment for his wound was also beginning to worry him. Ronon knew all too well how easily a wound, especially one as large as a Wraith feeding-wound, could become infected. Teyla was right to try and get Sheppard to get looked at, and if he didn't do it soon on his own, Ronon would carry him to Keller himself.

After almost an hour, they had finished eating, and Sheppard remembered to grab a coffee and a cherry pastry for Rodney as he paid the bill. They were on their way toward the door when they noticed Sam and Dean striding purposely toward them. Though Sam still looked tired, he seemed as if he'd gained a bit of rest the night before. The dark circles under his eyes had faded slightly.

"Guys," Sheppard greeted them, but his smile faded as he noticed the serious looks on the boys' faces. "What happened?"

"That last Wraith you were supposed to find," Dean said, his voice low. "It took two people last night."

As the information sunk in, Dean could hear a collective intake of air from the three before him.

"Where?" Sheppard asked, his voice level despite the rate at which his heart was pounding.

"Not far," Dean replied, his jaw set in a hard line.

Sam looked around then, and asked, "Where's Dr. McKay?"

"Back at the motel," Ronon offered, his dark eyes also calm. Having known the man for so long, Sheppard knew that underneath Ronon's cool exterior, the Satedan's blood was boiling.

"We should probably get back there, too," Sheppard said, and everyone readily agreed.

* * *

"Tell us what you know," Sheppard said, after they had returned to the motel and uneasily settled into their various seats.

Dean was first to fill them in. "I got a call from Shannon early this morning. She said that she'd been down at the morgue, looking in on a lead for one of her cases, when they brought in the bodies."

"It was a couple. They were engaged," Sam interjected, his face showing a hint of sadness, more than the usual sympathy he felt for the victims they came across. It seemed to Sheppard that Sam was closer to this pair of people than he cared to let on, though he wasn't hiding it very well. Dean obviously knew, from the look he shared with his brother, but he said nothing, either.

"Apparently, they were out for a stroll near the river last night, when they were attacked," Dean finished.

"What are the police saying?" Sheppard asked, and Dean shrugged.

"Nothing, right now. All they're admitting is that there may be a killer loose in town. I'm not sure they know _what_ to say."

"Okay." Sheppard wearily ran his hand through his hair again. "Teyla and I'll go down to the morgue, see what we can find out. Rodney," he addressed the scientist, who was staring at him with a look of sheer terror, "keep working on that thing, will ya? Ronon, you keep watch until I get back. No one comes in or leaves until then."

"Got it," Ronon rumbled, already ransacking the collection of bags for his weapon.

"Has Shannon said anything about where the Wraith might be?"

Sam shook his head.

"Great," Sheppard breathed. "Okay, keep in touch with her, see if she gets any idea of his location."

"Are you sure you don't need me to come along?" Dean asked, noticing then the ashen pallor Sheppard's skin had taken on, but the Colonel shook his head.

"It's better if you stay here."

Dean shrugged in defeat, and was about to turn to ask Sam a question, when Sheppard suddenly pitched forward, his eyes sliding closed. Ronon leapt forward to catch him, and laid him gently on the floor, while Teyla yanked a thick blanket off the bed and placed it over him. Despite the warm layer, Sheppard's body trembled, and his eyelids fluttered rapidly.

"Help me remove his shirt," she said to Dean, who nodded and knelt beside her. Grabbing Sheppard's t-shirt with both hands, he tore it open, gasping quietly when he saw the wound on Sheppard's chest, still as raw and ragged as when it had been inflicted on him. The redness around it had spread, until it had crept close to his collarbone, and though it had stopped bleeding, the clots looked somewhat odd to Dean.

"It is infected," Teyla confirmed to him, and she pulled a black bag over to her and began to rummage through it.

"What are you looking for?" Sam asked from nearby, and she spoke to him without stopping her search.

"I need to contact the Daedalus. Colonel Sheppard's earpiece was in one of these bags."

"I'll look for it," Sam offered, already grabbing another bag and dumping it out on the bed. After searching for what seemed like hours, they'd gone through every bag and still hadn't found it, and Dean stood and began to pace the room, his hands in his hair.

"This is crazy," he muttered. Suddenly, he started toward the door, but Ronon stopped him by standing in his way.

"Where are you going?" the warrior asked him.

"To my car. I can help him, but we're running out of time."

Ronon looked to Teyla, who nodded for him to let Dean go, and he stepped aside.

Dean was back in a matter of moments, with his arms piled full of strange materials. He knelt beside Teyla again, emptying the contents of his arms on the floor beside Sheppard. She surveyed the supplies he'd brought, her eyebrow raised.

"Rodney?" Dean asked, and the scientist jumped and quickly stood up.

"Yes?"

"I need you to find towels, sheets, anything like that."

"Of course," Rodney replied, hurrying toward the bathroom.

"Okay," Dean said to Teyla, "I might need you and Ronon to hold him down. This ain't gonna feel very nice for him."

Ronon knelt on Sheppard's other side, his hands ready to restrain his friend, while Teyla sorted the items between her and Dean.

Rodney returned with an armful of towels, and then pulled Sheppard's rumpled sheets off the bed and handed them down to Ronon, who began to tear the sheets into long, thin strips. Dean tossed a small package to Sam, who had caught onto his lead immediately, and then shoved one of the bath towels underneath Sheppard's left side.

Dean pulled a sharp-looking hunting knife out of a leather sheath, poured a good bit of whiskey onto the blade, and then nodded to Teyla and Ronon, who each grabbed hold of Sheppard's arms as he slowly cut around the outside of the wound. As expected, Sheppard's body thrashed as he tried to escape the pain, but his friends' grips were firm. Soon, fresh blood gushed from the injury, and Dean wiped it away as it ran down Sheppard's side. Sheppard's body relaxed from struggling, but still shivered slightly, though sweat stood out on his forehead and chest.

"Sam?" Dean asked then, tossing a quick glance behind him.

"Got it," Sam replied, coming to stand beside his brother with the needle knotted onto a long piece of heavy-gauge thread.

"Okay, hold him down again. Gotta make sure the wound's clean."

Teyla and Ronon resumed their hold on the Colonel's arms, as Dean again held up the bottle of whiskey.

"You can't be serious! Whiskey?" Rodney shouted then, but Dean ignored him. He didn't have time to argue; if they didn't get Sheppard's injury tended soon enough, it would kill him for sure. Taking a deep breath and praying for this to work, Dean tipped the bottle up, pouring a healthy stream of whiskey onto Sheppard's chest.

As soon as the liquid made contact with the wound, Sheppard's eyes flew open, and a scream erupted from his throat. He twisted violently in Ronon and Teyla's grasp, trying to get away, and Ronon found it almost difficult to keep him down on the floor.

Though she could feel her heart break when she saw tears stream from the corners of Sheppard's eyes, Teyla's mouth was set in a hard line. She cursed the Wraith that had done this to him; in fact, she cursed all the Wraith, simply for being in existence. To her, they were nothing more than a plague, one that needed to be wiped out as soon as possible.

"Almost done," Dean muttered, as Sam handed him the needle and then knelt to hold Sheppard's legs down, to keep them out of Dean's way as he closed up the wound.

"Stop," Sheppard whispered, and then began to repeat it over and over again, until exhaustion overtook him and he fell into unconsciousness. At the pleading in Sheppard's voice, Teyla hadn't been able to stop tears from forming in her own eyes and falling down her cheeks. Even Ronon had seemed fairly upset, as his jaw worked silently and he began to take deep breaths in and out.

"Dean," Sam inquired, but his brother merely shook his head.

"Bastard shredded him pretty bad," Dean observed. "There's no way to stitch this without leaving an ugly scar."

"You are doing fine," Teyla assured him. "Please, finish as quickly as possible."

A moment later, Dean sliced the end of the thread with his knife, and began wrapping Sheppard's chest with the makeshift bandages Ronon was handing him. He was pleased to see that the man had stopped shivering, but he was still worried that he hadn't gotten all the infected tissue, that it would come raging back even worse in a few hours.

"Okay," Dean said when the wound had been dressed. "Put him in the bed. He'll be more comfortable there."

Once Sheppard was settled in his bed, with Rodney's blanket tucked around him since his own had been stained with blood, Dean stopped to look down at the floor where he'd performed his emergency operation. Three bloody towels lay in a crumpled heap on top of a black garbage bag, along with Sheppard's shredded t-shirt and his comforter. Though they'd tried to contain the mess, a small pool of blood was beginning to dry on the carpet, and the entire room smelled of whiskey, with the faint tang of Sheppard's blood mixed in. Dean's hands and arms were covered in blood, and he could feel the same stickiness on his face. With the way Sam was gawking at him, he knew he probably looked like a butcher after a long day.

As if to reaffirm his suspicions, Teyla came toward him, placed her hand gently on his arm, and said, "Why do you not take some time to wash up?"

"That bad, huh?" he asked, trying to force a smile that wouldn't come.

"That bad," Ronon replied with a nod.

"We will watch over him while you are gone," Teyla added, knowing what he was about to say next. Then, she patted his arm, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "You did a wonderful job, Dean. Thank you."

"Thanks," he rasped, at the same time touched by her gratitude and still unsure of whether he'd been successful in his efforts.

Then, with a nod to tell Sam to follow him, he quickly left the room to take a nice, hot shower.

* * *

_TBC..._


	7. Doubling Down

_AN: Only a few more chapters left...unless another idea hits me and changes all that! Hope you enjoy this one, it's a doozie! R&R...It makes me happy when you do!_

* * *

Chapter 7

When the Winchesters returned to Sheppard's room a half-hour later, Dean was mildly surprised to see Rodney sitting on the edge of Sheppard's bed. The scientist was still tapping away on his notepad, but every once in a while he would look up and watch his friend's sleeping face, checking on his condition.

The bloody laundry had since been removed, and the only reminder of what had happened was the stain on the carpet. The smell of whiskey was gone as well, as someone had opened the window to let the fresh air inside, and Dean noticed that they had also cleaned up the mess they'd created when they'd dumped out all the black duffel bags.

"Uh," Sam said as Teyla emerged from the bathroom, her eyes slightly red and puffy, "I got in touch with Shannon again, a few minutes ago. She still hasn't heard or seen anything useful about where the Wraith might be hiding, but she said she'd keep her eye out."

"That is good," Teyla replied, and moved to the side of Sheppard's bed to check on his bandages, as well as to wipe the slight sheen of sweat from his forehead. When she was satisfied, she sighed and pulled a chair over beside him, nodding at Rodney to let her keep watch for a while.

"Has he woken up, yet?" Sam asked her, and she shook her head.

"I think it is perhaps better this way," she muttered, and Sam had to agree. Something told him that as soon as Sheppard was well enough, he'd take a swing at Dean for the pain he'd put him through, no matter how necessary it had been at the time.

"I think Sam and I should go to the Morgue," Dean said then, returning everyone's minds to the orders Sheppard had given before his collapse. "When Doctor McKay finishes with that thing, you can call us on this," he handed Teyla Sam's cell phone. "We'll find the device and McKay can walk us through shutting it off, or whatever."

Teyla eyed them fearfully. "How do you plan to defend yourself against the Wraith? He will be much stronger than the others, having fed so recently."

Dean smiled widely, and even gave a quick wink. "Don't worry. We can take care of ourselves. Just have Rodney call us when he's ready."

Teyla stepped closer to him then, and placed her hand on his cheek. Her dark eyes full of concern, she murmured, "Please, be careful."

"We will," he replied softly, casting a meaningful glance at Sheppard's sleeping body. "He's a stubborn sonofabitch, huh?"

"Yes," Teyla said with a knowing look. He knew by that look, she figured Dean to be of a similar ilk, and he couldn't disagree. "An irreplaceable one."

Teyla moved away from him, and nervously turned the cell phone over and over in her hands as he and Sam made their way toward the door. While Sam continued on into the hall, Dean stopped in the doorway, and managed a jaunty wave.

"Be back soon," he said, and then he was gone.

* * *

Sam hopped into the passenger seat of the Impala, as Dean started the engine. He noticed the firm set of his brother's jaw, and it made him a little nervous. He knew that when Dean got angry, things could go wrong very quickly.

"Dean," Sam started quietly, "what are we doing?"

Dean stared at him in confusion. "Helping."

"Helping?" Sam repeated, just as confused by Dean's answer. "How is chasing a super-strong creature through the desert, with only a couple of shotguns, 'helping'?"

Dean was silent as he pulled out of the parking lot, squealing the tires on the pavement. Once he had merged into traffic, he turned to glance at Sam.

"Look, I don't know how close you were paying attention back there, but Sheppard's laying in a motel bed with more than 20 stitches in his chest. And if we hadn't been there, he'd probably be dead. I'm not gonna just sit around and wait for this Wraith to find us. If you wanna go back…" he stared pointedly at his brother.

Sam sighed and shook his head. "No. All I'm saying is, Sheppard's team is military…"

"Mostly," Dean reminded him, thinking of McKay.

"Whatever. They're military, and they had a hard time dealing with two of these things. We're just two people, against something with the strength of like, five men."

"Three."

Sam frowned. "What?"

"There's three of us. We're going to get Shannon."

Suddenly realizing the implications of Dean's plan, Sam's eyes widened. "Dean, no."

"The hell do you mean, 'no'?" Dean asked, his eyes hard.

"I mean 'no'. You can't seriously be thinking of putting her in harm's way like this!"

"Sam," Dean warned.

"No, Dean! You saw what those things do. If she gets attacked…"

"She's a hunter, too."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, but even hunters get killed eventually."

"We're still here."

"Barely. If it wasn't for Cass…" Sam left the comment unfinished, knowing Dean understood what he meant.

He understood, alright, but he merely shrugged. "That doesn't matter, okay? We're gonna be fine."

Sam ran both hands through his hair. "If that creature kills her…"

Dean's voice was low. "I won't let that happen."

"You won't…" Sam leaned forward, his hands gripping the dashboard. "How, Dean? How are you gonna keep it from happening? Huh? Tell me how."

"Look, I just won't, okay?" Dean shouted finally. "Now either quit arguing, or get the hell out of the car."

Sam sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't agree with Dean's plan, but if he wanted to help Sheppard and his team, he was going to have to go along with it.

For now, anyway.

* * *

The warehouse was dark, and full of crates of various sizes. Strange scuffling noises could be heard in the corners of the rooms, and every once in a while, small dark shapes hurried across the doorways.

Shannon had to admit, this was a perfect place for a demon to hide out; dark, cold and creepy.

The knife she held in her hand suddenly felt heavy, as did the guns that were strapped to her back in a homemade holster. She stopped behind a corner, her back to the wall, and wiped her sweat-slick palms off on the legs of her jeans as she went over the steps to demon-hunting in her mind.

Shannon knew this was the demon's hideout – she'd seen the omens in this town, as well as the demon's old vessel, laying cold in the city Morgue. As soon as she'd arrived at the warehouse, she'd poured salt around every doorway and windowsill, even managing to get the huge loading door in the back. Around her neck hung a pendant that would protect her from possession, a gift from the hunter who'd taught her the trade.

As she once again gripped the knife in her right hand, her left hand traveled to her left shoulder, where an angelic symbol had been tattooed a year ago, its black ink permanently guaranteeing even more protection from evil influences. She couldn't help but think of her mentor as she absently rubbed the tattoo, of his sudden death at the hand of a horrible creature in the woods of Oregon. The memory of his clawed, bloody face swam before her, and she shook her head to clear it away again. It would do no good to remember that now. She had a job to do.

Shannon took a deep breath and peered around the corner, finding only the empty hallway beyond. But as she made her way down the corridor, her ears suddenly picked up the sound of voices ahead and to the left. Curious (and to be honest, a little frightened), she followed the noise. She soon came to a door that had once held a window in it; jagged pieces of glass were all that remained of the window now. Peeking through the open space, she saw two dark figures inside the room, standing only feet apart. One she recognized immediately – the shorter man was definitely the demon she'd been tracking – but the other she wasn't sure about. He was mostly hidden in the shadows, and all she could see was a corner of his long, dark jacket, which brushed the tops of his shiny black boots. Shannon strained her ears, trying to make out what they were saying, but all she heard was murmuring, and it frustrated her. She knew from watching them that they were making some kind of agreement; but what the terms were, she couldn't tell.

Quickly tiring of the waiting, and before she could "chicken out", Shannon burst through the door and headed straight for the demon, the knife held out in front of her for defense as well as offense. The demon grabbed her wrists as soon as she reached him, and tossed her away as easily as if she were a rag doll. She was thrown onto a nearby crate, the force of her landing splintering the wooden slats and sending one of the pieces into her side. She gasped as it penetrated her skin, but quickly rolled off the crate and stood up, her hand still tightly gripping her knife. She knew that if she lost that particular weapon, she was a dead woman; she'd have no chance against a creature as strong as the demon was.

"Foolish move, coming here," the demon growled at her then.

Shannon grinned, despite the blood now flowing down her side and soaking through her light blue shirt. She didn't see the other man slowly making his way toward the door, still keeping to the shadows.

"Well, I've never been a very wise girl. But I gotta tell you, only one of us will be leaving here, and it won't be you."

It was the demon's turn to smile. "So cocky. You remind me of another hunter I know." He took a step to the side, beginning to circle her. "You met him recently, in fact."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she spat as she watched him closely, trying to decipher any possible weakness. So far, she was having no luck.

He shook his head in mock-disappointment. "And you say that we demons lie."

Shannon rolled her eyes. This guy was really starting to get on her nerves. Then, she suddenly caught movement to her left, and instinctively turned toward it. The demon took the opportunity to rush forward, his hands closing around her neck and tightening like a vise.

The sudden force of his attack surprised her, and the knife fell from her grasp, clattering to the cement floor as she tried to loosen his hands, to get much-needed air into her lungs. She kicked out her legs, but still his grip tightened, and soon her muscles began to ache and then quiver with fatigue. A moment later, she started to feel dizzy, and she knew she was close to blacking out.

"Too cocky," she heard the demon say again, above the rushing sound in her ears.

Then, the demon's hold on her suddenly loosened, and her vision cleared enough to see a silver blade sticking out of his chest. A golden-orange glow shone out of the wound, and she looked up to see the same glow coming from his mouth and eyes. As the man's body slipped limply to the floor, Shannon was surprised to see another man standing there, his hands gripping the handle of a short sword. His dark eyes were stormy, full of rage. With a quick twist, he pulled the blade free of the corpse. Only then did he allow his eyes to travel over to Shannon, who was massaging her neck slowly, making sure it wasn't swelling.

"You're bleeding," the man noted, gazing at the rather large stain on her shirt.

"I'll be okay," she replied, though she wasn't too sure of that herself. "Close call, though, huh?"

"Too close."

She nodded in agreement as she finally got her first good look at him. He wore a tan trench coat, and underneath that was a black pair of slacks and a white dress shirt. He had dark hair that spiked up a little in the front, and a day's worth of stubble on his face.

"Who are you?" She asked when the silence became somewhat uncomfortable.

A ghost of a smile crossed the man's lips. "My name is Castiel."

"Castiel," Shannon repeated, as if she were trying the name out on her tongue.

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

"Well, Castiel, just what exactly did you do to him?" She gestured down at the dead man at their feet to emphasize.

"I sent him back to Hell. He was about to kill you."

Shannon grinned at him. She liked him, she decided then; he was too serious, but at least he was straightforward – a rare commodity in her line of work.

"I could see that," she replied. "Thanks."

Castiel nodded again, just as a familiar rumbling sounded outside the warehouse. A few moments later, the Winchester brothers stepped through the door, their shotguns gripped tightly in their hands.

When Dean noticed that there were two people standing in the middle of the floor instead of just one, as he'd expected, he stopped in his tracks.

"Cass?" He asked incredulously.

"Hello, Dean," the angel replied calmly.

"What're you doing here?"

"Saving my bacon," Shannon chimed in, wincing as she used her hand to put pressure on her bleeding side.

"The demon's name was Andras. Sower of discord," Castiel offered, as he bent down and wiped his sword on the man's jacket. Then, he looked around. "Where is the creature that was with him?"

"Creature?" Dean asked.

"What you call a 'Wraith'."

Dean stared at him incredulously. "A Wraith was here? Hanging with a demon?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

"He must've took off when we started fighting," Shannon replied then. The movement she'd seen earlier – it was probably the Wraith leaving.

"It's very important that you find him, Dean," Castiel said, urgency suddenly filling his voice.

"We will, Cass," Dean assured him. "But right now we should get Shannon cleaned up."

"Of course. I need to speak with Colonel Sheppard. I have information he should be made aware of. Where is he?"

Sam and Dean exchanged uncomfortable looks. Then, Sam spoke up. "He's at the motel. But…"

Before he could explain the situation, Castiel had gone, and Dean shook his head sadly.

"That won't turn out well," he muttered.

Sam nodded in agreement before casting a glance at Shannon, who was unbuttoning her shirt.

"Um," he stammered, cocking his head in confusion.

"Relax," she laughed, and showed him tank-top she wore underneath. "Just checking to see how bad it is."

"Let me," he offered quickly. Shannon raised an eyebrow at him, but then nodded.

"Be my guest. Blood's never been my thing, anyway."

Sam stepped over to her, flicking on his flashlight so he could see more clearly. He watched her lift the side of the tank-top, and then shone his light over her skin, at once catching sight of the large splinter that had sunk into it. Blood still trickled slowly from the wound, working its way to the waist of her jeans. Luckily, her jeans were black, so the stain wouldn't be very noticeable.

"It's not too bad," he said then. "I think I can pull the sliver out."

Shannon drew in a large breath before replying, "Do it."

"'Kay." He looked to his brother. "Dean, hold the light."

Dean walked over and took the flashlight from Sam, steadily focusing the beam onto the wound, as Sam gently grasped the chunk of wood in his fingers.

"Ready?" He asked Shannon, who nodded silently. Inhaling a deep breath of his own, Sam slowly pulled the splinter out of her skin. It gave a moment's resistance, but then slid out easily, leaving a slight trickle of fresh blood behind it. Shannon gasped involuntarily as she felt it being pulled from her, and then again as a sudden stinging took up residence in her side instead. Sam tossed the sliver onto the floor, and then reached forward to take her blouse from her. As she handed it to him, he noticed that her hand shook a little, but he guessed that it was more from the pain of removing the shard of wood rather than blood loss, which hadn't been significant at all.

Sam was pressing the blouse to the wound, when her hand suddenly covered his.

"I can do it," she said, and he nodded and slid his hand carefully out from under hers.

"You good to take a ride out to the desert?" Dean asked then, flicking off the flashlight.

She looked at him, or rather, the half of him illuminated by the dim sunlight filtering through the grimy windows above them. A puzzled look settled on her face.

"Sure. Why?" When he didn't answer right away, she sighed. "You're going after the Wraith."

She followed the brothers out of the warehouse, and into the bright afternoon, shading her eyes with her hand. After being inside the dark building for so long, the sun seemed a thousand times brighter to her.

"Yeah," Dean finally replied. "There's some message thingy…"

"A beacon," Sam offered helpfully, gaining a sharp look from his brother.

"A message beacon hidden somewhere out there, and we've gotta make sure he doesn't turn it on."

"What if he does?"

Dean stopped directly in front of the Impala and looked into her brown eyes.

"Then a whole fleet of ships, full of those God-awful creatures, comes to Earth."

As the full realization of what that meant reached Shannon's mind, she went a little pale. Then, she dropped her hand from her eyes and stared back at him.

"I guess we'd better get going, then."

* * *

_TBC..._


	8. All In

_AN: So, according to request, in this chapter the Atlantis team meets Castiel. In return, next chapter Todd will be introduced to the Winchesters (also by request)...should be fun, so stay tuned! Um, I need to also explain that the vision of a Wraith on a dirtbike makes me giggle, but it was better than using the same old "dart"...I dunno, I guess I'm just weird._

_Also, in case anyone is wondering, in this AU version, Shep's Mom died...cuz they never really explored that in the series, so...yeah. And I know the action goes kinda fast, but on Word it looks a lot longer...Sorry for that!_

* * *

Chapter 8

Sheppard's room was dark, save for the light softly glowing in the bathroom as a sort of modified nightlight. Ronon was stretched out in one of the chairs placed around the small table, his gun resting on the table's surface, ready to be picked up if needed. Rodney was curled onto his side on his bed, his blanket replaced with one from Teyla and Ronon's room. He snored lightly every now and then, but didn't wake.

Teyla felt herself slowly nodding off, and each time it happened she snapped her eyes open and blinked a few times, trying to clear her fatigue. She leaned over and checked on Sheppard, placing her hand on his forehead. His fever had gone, she noticed with relief, but he had recently begun muttered in his sleep, his eyelids fluttering rapidly as he dreamt. It didn't seem like a good dream to her, but she dared not wake him.

She again thanked the ancestors for Dean and Sam's sudden appearance into the situation, knowing that somehow, they had been meant to be there. She replayed the events of the past day in her mind, remembering the way Dean had easily taken charge of Sheppard's situation, his crude yet effective tending of the Colonel's wound. It seemed that he'd had much experience with dealing with injuries, even if he didn't follow any "real" medical procedures as he handled them, and she supposed that his father – and their line of work – had much to do with that.

Teyla had about fallen asleep, when she felt a gust of wind suddenly rush around her, driving her bangs away from her face. Her eyes flew open, and she found herself staring at a man in a trench coat, who stood at the foot of Sheppard's bed.

At first, she was too frightened to speak, but once she got over the sudden shock, she straightened her spine and asked, "Who are you? How did you get in here?"

Teyla's voice woke Ronon, who noticed the man immediately and grabbed his gun, pointing it at the back of the man's head. He glanced over to his right, and was amazed that Rodney was still sleeping soundly. Ronon doubted if even an earthquake could wake him, he was that deep in slumber.

"Answer her," he growled, fully expecting the man to turn into a veritable river of information at his tone. What he didn't expect was for the man to turn around and face him, a slightly amused look in his eyes, though his mouth held no such humor.

"I mean you no harm," the man said. "I only wish to speak with the Colonel."

"He is in no condition to speak," Teyla replied, reflexively turning to gaze at Sheppard. "Now, who are you?"

"My name is Castiel."

"How did you get in this room? The door is locked."

"I don't use doors."

Ronon frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. "So how'd you get here?"

"I…" Castiel searched for a word to explain. He could only come up with one. "Flew."

As they pondered his explanation, Sheppard coughed and asked, "What's going on?" His eyes opened lazily as he spoke, and he soon found himself wondering why it was so dark in the room. The last he'd known, it was 9 or 10 in the morning.

Castiel stepped around the side of the bed, ignoring Ronon's gun, which was still pointed at him. "Colonel Sheppard."

"'S me. Who're you?" Sheppard replied, his voice slightly raspy.

"Castiel. Dean and Sam are my…friends."

"Castiel?" Sheppard considered the name. "That's a weird name. You an alien or something?"

He shook his head. "I am an angel of the Lord."

At this, Sheppard exchanged looks with his two friends. "An angel?" He asked. "What, like with wings and all that?"

"He did say he flew here," Ronon chimed in, still keeping his gun level with Castiel's head.

"Okay," Sheppard said, willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt. After all, if he could believe there were ascended beings roaming around the universe as balls of light, then why not angels? "Let me ask you a question, then."

Castiel nodded. "Of course."

"If you're really one of God's angels..." Cass nodded again, "...then why did he let my mother leave?"

"She was ill," Castiel explained, "and in much pain. She begged to be released from her suffering."

Forgetting the pain in his chest and back, Sheppard sat up, an angry look in his greenish eyes. "But he's God! He could've healed her, couldn't he?"

"God's ways –" Castiel began, but Sheppard interrupted him.

"Don't! He took her away from me, and nothing you say can make that okay!"

"John," Teyla said then, coming forward to place her hand on his shoulder, a silent plea for him to calm down. Though his anger still seethed within him, he took a deep breath before speaking again.

"Why are you here, anyway?" He asked the angel.

"To warn you that the demons on Earth are trying to make a deal with the Wraith."

Sheppard peered over at Ronon, who seemed as confused as he was.

"What sort of deal?" Teyla asked before he could, and Castiel turned to face her, his eyes full of compassion. His sympathy for humans had been the reason he'd been kicked out of Heaven, and at times, he wondered if it was worth it. Then, he saw the love they had for each other, as Teyla had for Sheppard - or as the Winchesters had for each other - and he knew he'd made the right choice.

"To allow themselves to be possessed by the demons, so that they can leave Earth."

Sheppard swallowed this news, his sharp mind working through the situation. "If they possess the Wraith and he gets back into the Pegasus…"

"The demons will soon have free reign over the entire universe," Castiel finished the thought for him. "These Wraith will be ten times stronger than they already are, and without their need to feed, they will wipe out every human life they come across."

Everyone was silent as they understood the severity of their situation. Then, Sheppard began to get out of his bed, swinging his legs over the side.

"John, what are you doing?" Teyla asked him.

"We need to get going. I can't just lie here forever."

"But your injury…"

"I'll be alright. I just need to stand up."

Castiel shook his head then. "She's right; your injury is too severe. You would never survive the trip."

Before anyone could argue any further, the angel reached out and touched Sheppard's chest. A bright white light glowed under his hand, and Ronon and Teyla had to look away from it to keep from being blinded. A moment later, the glow faded, and he dropped his hand to his side.

Sheppard stared at him for a beat, puzzled as to what had just happened. Then, he slowly rolled his shoulders back, and when his chest didn't erupt into burning pain, he finally understood.

"Thanks," he breathed.

"Sheppard?" Ronon inquired, as the Colonel stood up easily.

"It's okay, Ronon. He…" Sheppard shook his head, not believing what he was about to say. "He healed me."

* * *

"Sam, give Rodney a call and see how close he is to finding that beacon," Dean said, tossing his cell phone over to his brother. In the back seat, Shannon stared out the window, her hand absently brushing the new bandage she sported on her side. She'd drawn her long chestnut hair into a ponytail, and though her eyes were stormy, Dean couldn't help but notice how pretty she looked, especially when the breeze from his open window blew a halo of stray tendrils away from her face.

Sam noticed Dean's expression, and rolled his eyes as he dialed the number for his own cell phone. Only Dean could get sidetracked by a pretty girl during one of the most important missions of their lives. It was twice as bad now, though, as she was also a hunter. Sam shook his head sadly. It was probably Dean's number-one fantasy to "hook up" with a gorgeous female hunter, and Sam knew that once this was over, if they all managed to survive, Dean would certainly try to act on it.

After three rings, Rodney's voice answered. "Hello?"

"Rodney, it's Sam. Dean wants to know if you've got a lock on that message beacon."

"One more minute, and I should have it. Where are you now?"

"Um," Sam glanced at a road sign that was coming up right then. "We're almost to Blue Diamond."

"Okay, you're close, then." A beep sounded from his notepad. When he spoke next, his voice was animated. "Okay, okay, it's about five miles ahead of you."

"Five miles," Sam notified Dean, who nodded silently and unconsciously pressed on the gas.

"Oh, by the way," he heard Rodney say, "We met your friend a while ago."

"My friend?" Sam asked, puzzled.

Rodney chuckled. "Yeah. Castiel."

At the mention of the angel's name, Sam breathed in relief. For a moment, he'd feared that Lucifer had paid them a visit.

"Oh."

"Nice guy."

"Uh-huh. So, Rodney?"

"Yes?"

"Where's the Wraith?" Sam asked, the sinking feeling suddenly returning to his stomach, though he suppressed it as best he could.

"Oh," Rodney replied, looking down at the tracking device to his left. "He's an equal distance from it as you are, but coming from the north. You might be able to cut him off if you time it right."

"Great," Sam breathed, the churning in his stomach turning up a notch.

"What's wrong?" Shannon asked from behind him, her eyes wide.

Turning to Dean, Sam said, "We need to go faster."

"Got it." Dean nearly flattened the gas pedal, driving the needle up to 100 miles an hour.

"I'll call you back when we've got the device," Sam told Rodney, who nodded on his end even though Sam couldn't see him.

"Good. Yes, and be careful."

Sam closed the phone and slipped it into his front pocket, then turned sideways to look at Shannon.

"You're sure about this?" He asked her.

"You bet your ass," she replied, her gaze serious.

"Good," Dean said then, pulling the car off the road and onto the hard, cracked surface of the desert. "'Cause we're here."

They all piled out of the car as soon as Dean cut off the ignition, and hurried around to the trunk. Dean unlocked the trunk with the key and pulled open the hatch, and he and Sam began to dig through the contents of the space, now and then setting things aside. Finally, Sam handed Shannon a shotgun that looked very similar to her own, and a handful of shells to go with it. She loaded six of the shells into the gun, and the rest she pushed into the pocket of the jacket Sam had loaned her. Though it was a little big for her, it effectively hid the fact that she'd been injured, and gave her a bit more protection than just her tank-top would.

Dean and Sam had their guns loaded in a matter of moments, and after a final check to make sure they had everything, Dean slammed the trunk shut.

"Let's make this quick," he said, turning to walk straight into the desert, and Sam and Shannon followed close behind him, their eyes darting to either side as they watched for the Wraith's approach.

They had only gone a distance of a hundred feet or so, when they heard a strange buzzing noise nearby. Dean squinted into the horizon, trying to see what was making the sound, but all he could make out was a small cloud of dust that was quickly nearing their location.

A few moments later, Sam stepped forward and said, "It's him."

Sure enough, the dust cleared slightly, and Dean saw that it was indeed the Wraith. He was riding what was probably a stolen dirt bike, and, Dean noticed, he was coming straight for them.

"Sam, go find the device. We'll deal with him." He cocked his gun, his eyes fixed on the approaching Wraith.

"What?" Sam asked incredulously. "Dean, no."

"Now, Sam!"

With a last pleading look on his face, which Dean saw yet chose to ignore, Sam took off toward the left, leaving Dean and Shannon where they stood.

"Aim for the head," Shannon told Dean. "Nothing else seems to work."

Dean nodded. The Wraith was fifty feet away now, and Dean could see the ghoulish smile on the creature's face, daring him to try and fight. _Well_, Dean thought, _I've never backed down from a challenge._

_Twenty feet_, Dean estimated. _Close enough_. He shoved the butt of his gun into his shoulder, and brought the end level with the Wraith's head, keeping a bead on the creature despite the speed of the dirt bike he rode. He was about to fire, when the Wraith suddenly leapt off of the bike and straight at him, knocking Dean to the ground with such force that the gun flew from his hand. It hit the ground and discharged, sending the slug into a nearby cactus, which blew in half.

Shannon managed to gather her wits about her after the Wraith's sudden attack, and aimed her shotgun at the creature. She took a breath and pulled the trigger, and watched as the bullet drove deep into the Wraith's skull. Instead of falling down dead, however, the creature merely screamed at her, and she quickly took a step back out of fear.

As Dean struggled to pull his knife out of its sheath, the Wraith turned its head back to glare at him, and he gasped in surprise. The Wraith's eyes were no longer yellow, but the darkest black he'd ever seen.

_Oh, God_, Dean realized, _he's been possessed._

Dean could hear Shannon emptying her shotgun into the creature, but it had no effect. When she was out of bullets, she started to run at it, a knife of her own in her hand.

"No!" Dean shouted at her, and she slid to a stop and looked at him, confused. "It's a demon!" He explained, and she nodded.

"So, this was the plan, huh?" Dean quizzed the demon within the creature. "This was the deal you were trying to make."

"Yes," the demon hissed. "You're too late, Dean."

"Maybe," he replied, still struggling for his knife. "But _he's_ not."

The Wraith-demon turned to see who Dean had indicated, and saw Sam standing there, a deep frown of concentration on his face. The demon stood up, screeching at Sam, but the younger Winchester only frowned harder and stretched his hand toward the Wraith, his palm out and his fingers bent slightly. His eyes slid closed then, and the Wraith's body began to jerk violently as Sam pulled the demon from him. It emerged from the Wraith's jagged-toothed mouth as a thick, black cloud, which began to swirl around the Wraith's feet like a roiling fog. Sam dropped his chin down onto his chest, and the cloud began to sink into the ground, leaving a dark patch of viscous matter behind.

When he saw that the demon was gone, Dean looked over at Shannon and yelled, "Shoot it!"

Not missing a beat, Shannon leveled the gun once more and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, and her eyes widened. She'd forgotten that her weapon was empty, as was her pocket. She was about to say something to Dean about it, when another bullet suddenly pierced the Wraith's head, and the creature reeled backward and then fell to the ground.

"Sorry it took so long," a voice called from behind them. Dean stood up, brushing loose sand from his clothes as Sheppard and his team walked toward them, being led by none other than Castiel. "Your friend was kind enough to transport us here. Though I have to admit it's not something I'd wanna do again."

Dean grinned. "I know how ya feel." He stepped forward and took Sheppard's hand, noticing that the Colonel seemed not to be in any pain. He guessed that Cass had something to do with that, as well. "Thanks for the help."

Sheppard smiled. "Don't mention it. I owed you one." Dean cast a curious glance at Teyla, who nodded once in return. Sheppard noticed the look, and continued. "Teyla told me what happened, since I didn't remember any of it."

"Well, as much as I'd love to keep standing out here in 105 degree weather, catching up," Rodney said irritably, "we should find that beacon."

"Lead the way, Rodney," Sheppard offered, stretching out his hand toward the expanse before them. Rodney sighed, and then began trudging off over the desert, his eyes fixed on the device in his hand.

Sheppard shared a knowing look with Dean before following after his friend. Ronon and Teyla went after him, their weapons held down low in front of them. When they were out of earshot, Dean and Sam stood with Castiel, who, despite the heat that surrounded them, looked as cool as always. Shannon was on her way back to the Impala, no doubt to escape the oppressive temperatures. Dean didn't begrudge her that; he could feel the sweat on his back fairly dripping down to his waist. It wasn't a good feeling.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to smile a little, Cass," Dean joked then. "We won."

Castiel stared seriously back at the brothers. "This was merely a small battle," he replied, his eyes dark. "There's much more coming. And soon."

The smile slid from Dean's face. "I know. But we'll be ready."

Castiel's gaze flicked meaningfully to Sam. "I hope so. For your sakes." Then, he appeared to be listening to something, and said, "I have to go."

Just like that, he was gone again, on some angelic errand or another.

Dean turned to Sam and shrugged. "Guess we're on our own again, for now. Let's go catch up with Sheppard."

* * *

_TBC..._


	9. Beating the Odds

_AN: As promised, Todd makes his appearance in this chapter! I find him funny in his own way, and despite his creepy-factor, he's just...adorable! Also, from the end of this chapter and into the next, the characters all decide to have some fun. Hey, they need some down-time, right?_

_Anyway, R&R as usual...you guys have given me awesome ideas so far – keep 'em coming!_

* * *

Chapter 9

Rodney was ready to explode at any moment. He'd been hunched over the message beacon for a half-hour, with Sheppard hovering over his shoulder like a nervous mother, watching him work. Normally, it wouldn't have bothered him very much – after all, he often watched Rodney fiddle with some "contraption" or another – but it was hot and humid out here, and ever since Rodney had seen a scorpion scuttle across the sand nearby, he was paranoid that he would be stung.

And, if Sheppard told him to hurry up one more time, Rodney swore he was going to steal Ronon's gun and stun the Colonel with it.

"Rodney?"

Oh, God, here it came.

"Look," Rodney warned, holding up a finger in the air as if he were feeling for the wind's direction, "I'm going as fast as I can. I'm really not all that familiar with Wraith technology, you know."

"I was gonna ask if Ronon could just shoot it," Sheppard pouted.

"No! Absolutely not!" Rodney exclaimed, tapping away at his notepad.

"Why not?" Shannon asked, handing a bottle of water down to him. It was blessedly cold, and he pressed it against his neck for a moment before opening it and taking a healthy gulp of the icy liquid.

"Because," he replied after he swallowed, "I need to find out if it's already been transmitting a signal before we destroy it."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and shot Rodney a confused look, which he didn't see as he was engrossed in his work. "But we got here before the Wraith did. He couldn't have turned it on."

Sheppard answered for Rodney. "Yeah, but the Wraith in the diner could've been lying about waiting to send the message. It could've been transmitting the whole time, and we wouldn't have known until we were back on the Daedalus, too far away to do anything about it."

Dean stuck out his bottom lip in thought. Sheppard had a point, he had to admit.

Just then, Rodney leaned over his pad, trying to block the sunlight that shone directly over them. "Aw, come on!" He shouted, his fingers now furiously pressing the keys on the screen.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked, coming over to stand behind the scientist, using his large frame to help shadow him.

"Sheppard was right. The two Wraith from the diner turned the beacon on, but they used a sort of timer, so if they didn't make it back, it would send the message automatically."

"How long we talking about?" Sheppard asked. A pit of worry settled itself into his stomach, twisting his gut into knots.

Rodney pressed another button, and looked up at the Colonel. "Two hours ago."

"Is there any way we could stop the message from reaching the rest of the Wraith?" Teyla wondered aloud, but Rodney shook his head.

"No. Once the message is out, it can't be erased." When everyone stared at him in confusion, he sighed and explained, "It's like an email. Once you press 'send', it's on its way to whoever you wanted to send it to. No matter how many errors you might've noticed afterward, it's too late."

Rodney's use of the word "errors" had started Sheppard's mind churning, and it suddenly blocked out the pit in his gut.

"Errors," Sheppard said aloud, and started to walk away. Curious, Rodney scrambled up and followed after him, while everyone else shrugged at one another and formed a loose line behind them.

When Sheppard realized he had company, he said, "You said something that got me thinking."

"Um, that's not always such a good thing," Rodney replied, "but please, continue."

Sheppard ignored the personal jab. "What if the Wraith sent the wrong coordinates?"

"Which they didn't."

"Right. But what if we make it seem like they did?"

Rodney was confused. "What? How?"

"By sending another message. A 'corrected' message." He mimed quotation marks in the air.

Finally, Rodney caught on. He snapped his fingers excitedly. "Yes, yes, yes. And the Wraith will go to the coordinates we give, rather than come to Earth."

"Exactly."

"But how do we do that? I told you before I have no idea how to even turn the beacon off yet."

Sheppard stopped and stared down at his friend, a boyish grin on his stubbled face. "Sounds like we need someone who reads Wraith, then."

Knowing who Sheppard was talking about, Rodney shook his head. "Oh, you can't be serious!"

"Well, it's either him, or a whole hive full of Wraith gets here in…" he looked down at his watch for emphasis, "what, a little less than a month?"

Groaning, Rodney threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine. Go get him."

As Sheppard wandered off to talk with the Daedalus, Sam turned to Ronon and asked, "Who are they talking about?"

Scowling darkly, Ronon replied, "Todd."

"Todd? Who's Todd?"

Dean turned around then and wrapped his arm around his little brother, squeezing lightly. Sam curled his upper lip in disgust as the weight and heat of Dean's arm caused new sweat to stand out on his shoulders and back, sticking his shirt to his skin; he bore it silently, however, as he knew that if he tried to push him away, he'd only squeeze tighter.

"Todd is a Wraith who sometimes helps these guys out," Dean informed him.

"But he…he doesn't, you know…" he motioned with his hand to illustrate the Wraith's feeding technique.

"Not yet," Ronon growled, and they knew that he was desperately hoping for that time to come, for the opportunity to use his impressive weapon on him. Dean couldn't say he blamed the Satedan for that.

A few moments later, a bright beam of light appeared, engulfing Sheppard entirely. Sam shielded his eyes from it, turning his head away slightly, but Dean felt like he had to watch what was happening, and merely squinted his eyes into slits just wide enough for him to be able to see without being blinded. He saw Sheppard there one moment, standing sedately within the light, and the next moment, the Colonel was gone. Dean smirked as he saw the similarity between this technology, and Castiel's powers.

The group was oddly quiet as they waited for Sheppard to return. Teyla and Ronon leaned against a large rock, and Dean and Sam stood under the shadow of a larger cactus, their arms crossed over their chests, looking for all the world like twins. Fraternal twins, perhaps, but twins all the same. Shannon stood between the two groups, nervously chewing her thumbnail, and Rodney waited near the spot Sheppard had disappeared from, glancing every now and then at his computer notepad.

Then, the beam suddenly returned, and this time, when it faded away, beside Sheppard stood a Wraith, his long white hair blowing in the hot desert wind.

"So that's Todd," Sam breathed, both nervous and intrigued.

Sheppard led Todd toward the group, talking to him in a low murmur. Todd nodded every few seconds, and once in a while added a thought of his own, which Sheppard seemed to answer sufficiently.

When they reached Sam and Dean, Sheppard gestured toward Todd and said, "Dean, Sam; this is Todd. Todd, Dean and Sam. They're brothers."

"I suspected as much," the Wraith replied in a strange, almost watery voice that instantly unnerved Dean in a way he couldn't quite describe. "Their resemblance is quite obvious."

"I could say the same about you and your…friends," Dean quipped, nodding toward the dead Wraith a dozen yards away.

Todd smiled humorlessly at this. "Appearances can be deceiving. I may look similar, but I assure you, I do not share their…propensity for the domination of the universe."

"Uh-huh," Dean replied, shrugging doubtfully.

"Okay," Sheppard interrupted, before any offenses could be taken, "I explained the situation to Todd, and he's agreed to help us out."

"In exchange for what?" Ronon asked, locking his dark eyes with Todd's yellow ones. Todd simply folded his hands in front of him and stared back, completely calm.

"Well, that hasn't been determined yet, actually," Sheppard replied. "We agreed to discuss it afterward, seeing how urgent this is."

"Great," Ronon muttered, rolling his eyes toward Teyla. Though she seemed not to acknowledge him, the sudden flicker of worry across her eyes was enough for Dean to notice, and it made him more worried than if she'd actually voiced any concern.

"Rodney?" Sheppard called, and the scientist looked up suddenly.

"Yes?"

The Colonel sighed in exasperation. "You coming?"

"Oh. Of course." Keeping a wide berth around Todd, Rodney started back toward the beacon, and Sheppard nodded for Todd to follow, silently telling him he would be there in a moment. Todd nodded back once, and then clasped his hands behind his back as he paced across the desert after Rodney.

Before Dean could open his mouth, Sheppard said, "I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no, I really don't trust Todd. But he's our only shot right now at keeping Earth from being overrun by Wraith, so we've gotta work with him. Besides, we've saved each other's ass a few times already, and if he'd wanted to, he could've killed us any of those times."

Dean nodded, fully understanding where Sheppard was coming from. "It's just…he's so…"

"Creepy?" Sheppard finished for him, and both Sam and Dean nodded this time. "Yeah, we've noticed. But, a word of warning?" He leaned closer, as if to impart a great secret. "Try not to stare. He doesn't like that."

"Got it," Dean replied, filing that piece of important information away in his mind.

Sheppard grinned then. "Good. Now, if everything turns out right, we'll have this wrapped up within the hour."

"Thank God," Shannon murmured, wiping her forehead with the palm of her hand. "It's hot as hell out here."

Dean considered correcting her on that, but decided against it. Once he mentioned his time in Hell, she'd undoubtedly want to hear the rest; he didn't really want to go over those memories with anyone, ever again.

* * *

It was well over an hour before Todd had made any progress toward sending the message they'd agreed upon earlier, but as soon as he'd finally found the correct commands, it took him only minutes to type and send the message.

"It is done," he rumbled, standing up to full height, which seemed to Dean to be around 7 feet. He suddenly found himself wondering if there were Wraith who were taller than Todd, and the thought frightened him a little.

"Great," Sheppard replied, clapping his hand on Todd's shoulder. "We really appreciate it, buddy."

"That is not my name," Todd said, confused, and Sam found himself smirking along with Sheppard.

"Sorry," Sheppard chuckled, "forgot who I was talking to. 'Buddy' is a name we call someone we really like. It's another word for 'friend'."

Todd still seemed a little puzzled, but he merely narrowed his eyes and replied, "I see. In that case, you are welcome, Buddy."

Sheppard winced then. "You know, when you say it, it just sounds oddly disturbing. Why don't we just stick to using our actual names?"

"That is acceptable, Sheppard," Todd agreed with a nod.

"Good."

"So," Sam chimed in then, gaining the courage to speak to the huge Wraith before him, "Where will they end up?"

This time, Todd actually chuckled. "Far away from here, I assure you."

Rodney stood up away from the beacon and added, "Somewhere on the very edge of the Andromeda Galaxy, actually. They won't realize they're way off course until it's too late."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. All this techno-babble was confusing him, and if he had to be honest, they'd lost him long ago. He'd just kept nodding his head as if he understood so they'd eventually shut up, and he could finally get out of the heat. Now, though, he was genuinely interested in Rodney's answer.

"Well, this is Todd's idea, which, for once, I happen to like." Todd bowed his thanks as Rodney went on. "We get on board the Daedalus, and go back to the Pegasus Galaxy. Then, we give Todd one of the darts the Daedalus has been holding onto, and he meets up with the main hive ship somewhere along the way. Suddenly and inexplicably, the hive ship blows up."

Sheppard continued the explanation as he watched Todd switch off the message beacon. "The rest is up to Todd to figure out. But he's done this kind of thing before, so there shouldn't be a problem."

"There will be no problem," Todd agreed, nodding sedately.

"Well, I like it," Dean replied, finishing his second bottled water. "But I thought you said there were a whole fleet of hive ships. Eventually they're gonna catch on."

Sheppard nodded, appreciating the elder Winchester's quick thinking. "Sure. But the _Apollo_ and _Sun Tzu_ will both be on guard to engage any hives that try to make it toward the Milky Way."

"Right," Rodney agreed. "So now, all that's left to do is to destroy the message beacon." He looked at Ronon pointedly.

Ronon's eyes flickered to Colonel Sheppard momentarily, who shrugged as if to say "it's your call", and then the large man stepped forward and raised his gun, aiming it at the blue-and-silver device. He flicked a switch on the side of the weapon, causing the light above the handle to glow red, and then turned back to the rest of the group.

"You might wanna stand back," he suggested, and everyone followed his advice, taking two large steps backward. When he was satisfied that everyone was a safe distance away, Ronon fired a shot at the beacon, and it exploded immediately, sending shrapnel in a wide circle from where it had stood.

When the smoke cleared, the only evidence that something had been there was a charred sunburst pattern on the parched ground. Ronon nodded, pleased with the way that had turned out, and walked away again.

"Well, that was quick," Dean observed. Sheppard shrugged lightly.

"It's why we like him," he replied, smiling genuinely at the Satedan.

"So I guess you'll be leaving now, huh?"

Sheppard nodded, though he suddenly felt as if he were being dragged away against his will, and it confused him. He'd never felt like Earth had been his home, but now that he was back again – now that he had met the Winchesters – he wondered if maybe he'd been wrong about that. He found himself wanting now to stay a little longer, to try and draw out this visit for as long as possible.

"Rodney," he heard himself saying then, "how long would it take for that message to reach any Wraith ships in the Pegasus?"

Rodney glanced at his superior, a puzzled look in his blue eyes. He ran a few calculations through his mind, then frowned. "Uh, maybe a week, depending on the interference in each galaxy, as well as…"

"Good," Sheppard interjected. He wasn't interested in hearing more of Rodney's scientific explanation right now. He glanced around at his team, and then at Sam, Dean and Shannon. "So whaddya say we take Todd up to the _Daedalus_, and then come back down for some first-class R&R?"

Everyone stared curiously at him, wondering what exactly he was planning in his head. Finally, Ronon raised his eyebrow and said, "Sounds like a plan to me."

Reluctantly, Teyla agreed. "I would love to see more of your planet."

"Great. You'll love it. Maybe Shannon could even take you shopping." He glanced at the young woman, who nodded excitedly.

"I haven't had a girls' day out in a long time. It'd be fun."

Sheppard smiled as the image of Teyla, dressed in a Bond-girl type gown, floated into his mind, but he pulled himself away from the thought before he could dwell on it any longer. It was too soon after her loss of Kanaan to entertain thoughts of beginning a romantic relationship with her, and besides, he wasn't sure if she felt the same for him. Until he was sure, he wouldn't jeopardize their friendship by proclaiming his love for her.

Dean shrugged then, and added, "I wouldn't mind a little gambling." He turned to his brother. "Sam? You in?"

Sam considered it for a moment before replying, "Sure."

Rodney stepped forward then, his agitation clear in the motions he made with his hands. "Hold on a minute, Sheppard. We really don't have time to go on a bender in Vegas. The Wraith…"

Again, Sheppard interrupted him. "won't get the message for quite a while, and we've been due for some leave for months…Hell, for years, if you think about it." He gazed straight into his friend's eyes, silently pleading with him. "Come on, Rodney. We don't get a chance to relax very often. What better place to do it than Earth?"

Rodney noticed the longing in Sheppard's gaze, and found it impossible to argue any more. Besides, he had to admit that he too was looking forward to spending a day or two on his home planet. He could call Jeanie, check in with her…

"Fine," he sighed, though Sheppard could tell it was only so Rodney could keep his reputation as the "serious scientist" he claimed to be. "But you're dealing with Colonel Caldwell, as I doubt he'll be amused at this idea of yours."

"No problem," Sheppard replied, his grin widened considerably and his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Well, let's let the Winchester gang get out of this heat, before everyone burns to a crisp."

"Best idea today," Dean agreed, and Sheppard smiled again.

"We'll meet you guys back at the motel. You all should probably get some rest."

The Winchesters and Shannon turned to leave, but stopped when Sheppard added, "And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Dean caught the meaning in his voice, and nodded seriously at him. "Don't mention it."

* * *

TBC...


	10. Vegas Vacation

_AN: This is the chapter where the team gets to have a little fun. The guys debate on where to spend their time and money, and the girls go on their shopping trip. Also, we get a little more background on Shannon's beginnings in hunting, and her relationship with her mentor. Enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter 10

Sam was just pulling on a clean shirt when Dean and Shannon entered the motel room, laughing softly about something that had been said. Rolling his eyes, Sam ran his hands through his hair, which was still wet from his cool shower, and then sank down with a sigh onto the edge of his bed.

"Hey, Sam," Dean greeted him, tossing his keys onto the table beside the door.

"Hey, guys," Sam replied.

Shannon took a seat on Dean's bed across from Sam and asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said quickly. Then, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and explained, "I'm just tired. We've been on the road a long time, that's all."

Shannon nodded in understanding. "I can tell. After my brothers were killed, I took off for a while, too. Left a good friend in charge of the diner, got in my car, and chased after the things that killed them.

"When I finally tracked them down, they were holed up in some old farm building. There were only a few of them, so I figured I could take them. I was wrong. They captured me, and would've killed me, or worse – turned me into one of them – if it hadn't been for another hunter who'd also been tracking them."

"Your mentor?" Dean asked from behind her. She turned to him and nodded.

"Yep. He was a great man. He helped me escape, and then went back to take them all out. I'll never forget what he looked like when he came back to our hideout; blood spattered all over his clothes and arms, and his face was so pale at first I thought they'd gotten him."

Then, she smiled. "But they hadn't had a chance. He cut the heads off every single one of them. Then he burned the barn down with their bodies in it."

"Sounds like my kind of guy," Dean commented, ignoring the warning look in Sam's eyes.

"You would've liked him. He had tons of stories to tell." Her face fell as she remembered his kind face, his deep brown eyes. It still hurt like hell to think about him, but in a strange way, it kept her a little less reckless than she normally was.

"How did he die?" Sam asked softly, and she shrugged, staring down at the carpet. Her eyes soon shone with tears, but none fell.

"A demon," she whispered then. "I was following a lead on some strange deaths in Michigan, never knowing that all the while, the demon had been following me. My…friend tried to protect me, but he was no match for the demon. He was so much stronger…" she trailed off, and Sam nodded sympathetically. From what she'd told them, he had a pretty good idea which demon she was talking about.

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

Shannon managed a smile. "Thanks. It just seems sometimes like I've lost everyone close to me. And not many people can relate to that."

Dean chuckled humorlessly when he heard that. "Oh, trust me, we can relate."

"I know," she replied, her eyes wide. "I heard about Ellen and Jo. It must've been horrible."

Sam nodded as Dean softly said, "It was."

"Well, then, all the more reason for us to have some fun in this town." Shannon stood up and stretched her arms over her head. As her tank-top lifted slightly, Dean's head cocked sideways, his eyes carefully following the hem of the shirt.

"Dean," Sam said in his best imitation of their father's voice, and Dean's attention snapped back to his brother.

"Nothing," he replied quickly, and then began to rummage through his bag for something. "How long you figure it'll take for Sheppard and his pals to show up?"

Sam shrugged. "Shouldn't be too much longer."

"Good," his brother replied, "'Cause I need a drink." Disgusted, he tossed the bag aside, upset that it contained no alcohol.

Sam was about to comment, when a beam of light filled the room, and Colonel Sheppard returned along with the rest of his team. When the beam disappeared again, Dean noticed that the team had all changed into clean clothes; everyone except Rodney wore jeans – though Ronon's were black instead of the normal blue – and they all seemed a little more comfortable than before.

"'Bout time," Dean said jokingly, and Sheppard grinned.

"It took a little more convincing than I thought it would," the Colonel replied. "And we all needed a shower. Some more than others." He glanced meaningfully at Rodney, who now sported a lightly sunburned nose.

Rodney glared back. "Hey, I told you, I don't tolerate heat well."

"We could tell," Ronon quipped, the twitch at the corner of his lips the only sign that he was teasing.

"Oh, ha ha."

"So," Sheppard said, quickly changing the subject, "you guys ready?"

"Definitely," Dean replied, nodding.

"Great." He looked at Shannon then. "You and Teyla still want to go shopping?"

"Sure," Shannon said, looking to Teyla, who smiled excitedly.

"Okay." Sheppard pulled out his wallet, and handed Teyla a card from inside it. "This is a credit card. Shannon will show you how to use it. The code for it is…" he leaned over and whispered into Teyla's ear, and she nodded.

"I will remember," she said as he pulled away again. Sheppard's grin was wide as they started toward the door, at the same moment as a car horn blared from outside.

"Cab's here." Then, he remembered something else. "Oh, and Teyla?"

"Yes?"

"Keep that card close to you at all times, okay? Someone might try to steal it from you if they feel they can."

Teyla bowed her head once. "I promise."

"We'll meet you for dinner at 9!" He called after her. Dean shut the door for him, but not before he caught a glimpse of the two women giggling, probably at him. It didn't bother him, though; if anything, it gave his ego a slight boost.

When Teyla and Shannon had gotten into the taxi Sheppard had called for them "just in case", the Colonel turned to the men with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Where should we go – casino, or strip club?"

Ronon was the first to speak up. "Strip club?" he asked, confused.

Sheppard nodded. "Yeah. It's a place where…um…" he stopped, suddenly embarrassed, and Rodney leaned forward, frowning.

"Naked women dance around on a stage and horribly under-evolved men throw money at them."

Sheppard looked slightly hurt, but he only shrugged at Ronon, who quirked an eyebrow.

"I take it you don't like these 'strip clubs'," Ronon said to Rodney.

"Correct, my friend. Those of us with more than five brain cells left much rather enjoy the casino, where we can use our intellect to win lots of money."

"How is cheating at poker any better than staring at women?" Sheppard asked, his brows furrowed.

"It's not cheating!" Rodney argued. "It's just…not generally accepted in most circles."

"Actually…" Sam started, but Dean punched his arm, effectively causing him to shut up.

"Okay," Sheppard said then, breathing out a sigh. "We'll vote on it. Everyone for the casino, raise your hand."

Everyone looked around at one another, before four hands shot up. Rodney saw that Sam, Dean and Ronon had also raised their hands, and he was clearly overjoyed.

"Ha! We win," he gloated, but Sheppard's face remained unchanged.

The Colonel was just about to open his mouth to speak when Dean suddenly said, "Oh, did you say casino? I thought you said strip club." With that, he put his hand down.

"Me too," Ronon added, also lowering his hand.

"Sorry, Rodney," Sheppard chuckled, leading the way out of the motel room. "Seems you've been outnumbered. Club it is!"

McKay pouted. "Well, then I'll be in the car while you're in there, drooling like Neanderthals."

"Whatever," Ronon rumbled. He pulled open the passenger-side door of the Camaro and moved the front seat forward, so Rodney could get in. When the scientist had taken his seat, Ronon looked over the top of the car at Sheppard. "You brought money, right?"

"Nope. Gotta make a slight side-trip for that."

Sam and Dean had been headed toward the Impala when Sheppard asked, "Where're you going?"

Dean tilted his head slightly and replied, "We were gonna follow you in my car."

Sheppard subconsciously copied Dean's motion. "There's enough room in mine. Hop in."

Sam was willing to go along with Sheppard, but he waited for the hesitation he knew he'd hear from Dean.

It came a moment later. "Ah, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not leave 'er alone in this parking lot."

Ronon shrugged and got into the car, but Sheppard wouldn't drop it. "Look, I don't mean any disrespect for your girl there, but it's not like anyone's gonna want to break into her. I mean..." he gestured to the many rust spots and dents on the side panel for emphasis.

Dean sighed, and glanced over at Sam. The younger Winchester moved his head almost imperceptibly, but Dean caught it; he also understood the meaning in that motion – "it's up to you, but the guy has a point". Finally, Dean nodded. "Okay, but it's gonna be cramped in the back, with Sasquatch in there."

Sheppard's grin was bright enough to light up the entire crappy motel they'd just left. _Ah, sibling rivalry_; he only wished he'd gotten to experience that aspect of a family relationship. As it stood now, he didn't know if his brother would ever talk to him again. They had begun to patch things up between them after their father had died; but, too soon, John had to leave and go back to Atlantis.

Many things hadn't been said that needed to be.

Forcing himself to keep the smile in its place, Sheppard pulled open his door and waited for the Winchesters to slide in.

* * *

When Teyla stepped out of the taxi after Shannon, she found her senses so overwhelmed that she stopped on the curb and glanced around, trying to take everything in. She watched the throng of people around her, and they spoke and moved so quickly, that she wondered if they were speaking a different language than the English she understood. Everywhere she looked, colors flashed and glittered in the hot sunlight, horns and sirens blared, and the delicious smell of Earth foods filled her nostrils, suddenly making her stomach growl in hunger.

When she looked straight ahead again, she realized that she could no longer see Shannon there. A pit settled into Teyla's stomach. Sheppard had warned her about the dangers of wandering around Vegas alone, and though her demeanor remained calm, inside, her thoughts ran wild. She spun around, ready to jump back into the cab, but the driver had already pulled into the steady stream of traffic. Teyla silently uttered an Athosian curse. Her first time unescorted by Sheppard, and she'd already gotten herself lost. Panic began to bubble up inside her, her nerves winding tighter with each passing moment.

When a hand clamped onto her shoulder, she jumped a mile. Then, she turned and saw Shannon standing there, a grim look in her eyes.

"Stay close to me. It's a madhouse out here," the huntress nearly shouted above the noise of the street.

Sufficiently chastened, Teyla nodded and allowed Shannon to keep a hold on her shirt, steering them swiftly through the mass of people. When they finally reached their destination – a high-end clothing store in the middle of the street – Shannon dropped her hand from Teyla and pulled open the glass door. She gestured for Teyla to step inside, which she did willingly. Grateful to be away from the crowds, Teyla breathed a sigh of relief before looking around. She was glad that she had; the inside of the store was like nothing she'd ever seen. So many clothes hung on racks, making the store seem spacious and crowded at the same time. An entire fourth of the boutique was taken up by shoes, and another by purses and other accessories.

"So," Shannon said after a moment, "what do you want to try on first?"

"I...I am not sure. Everything looks so...expensive."

The younger woman smiled. "Hey, Sheppard gave you his credit card. I say you have a little fun with it. Besides, you deserve it."

Teyla considered her words. True, Sheppard had never given her a limit on how much she could spend, but she didn't feel quite right buying such rich-looking clothes on his account. She also wasn't sure that she deserved it, as Shannon had suggested.

Before she could make any of her concerns known aloud, Shannon rushed over to a rack and pulled off a navy-blue dress, holding it up for Teyla to see.

"Ooh," she breathed, "this would look fabulous on you!" Then, she pushed it into Teyla's hands. "Let's go try it on."

"I am not sure..." Teyla began, but Shannon shook her head.

"Come on, Teyla. The dressing rooms are right over here."

Once again, Teyla allowed herself to be led around to the dressing room, where a saleswoman wearing too much makeup stood, smiling widely at them.

"Hello," the woman said. "I'm Elizabeth."

"Hello," Teyla said, slightly inclining her head toward the woman.

"Hi, Elizabeth," Shannon also greeted, "she'd like to try this on."

When the woman saw the dress Teyla held in her hands, her smile got even wider. "Certainly. That's one of our newer dresses, very popular this year." Taking out a handful of keys, she turned and unlocked the dressing room door. "It will look lovely with your darker skin tone."

"Thank you," Teyla replied, smiling. She stepped into the dressing room, and shut the door behind her, taking a breath to steady herself. This was all so new and strange to her, but she was determined to enjoy herself. She took her time changing, savoring the way the silk underlining of the dress whispered against her skin, how the delicate beading glistened in the store's lights. When she was done dressing, she looked in the mirror to her right, turning to one side and then the other, a small smile breaking onto her face.

"Well?" Shannon's voice called from outside. "How does it look?"

"Should I show you instead?"

Both Shannon and the saleswoman nodded, and Shannon replied, "Please do."

The door opened then, and Teyla stepped out, her hands loosely gripping handfuls of the soft material of the dress in an attempt to keep the hem off the floor. When Elizabeth led her to a bigger mirror, they finally got the full effect of the dress, and even Teyla couldn't hide her excitement. Teyla took the opportunity to get a better look, herself.

The dark shade of blue was striking against her bronzed skin, and she felt almost as regal as her title in the tribe had asserted. The lines of the dress curved along with her body just right, and the skirt flared out slightly, swirling gently around her slender legs. The top was a halter-style neck; the beading on the bodice sparkled brightly, their fire reflected in her dark eyes.

"You look amazing," Shannon assured her, her own brown eyes wide. "You'll knock Sheppard off his feet."

Teyla met her eyes in the mirror, an amused smile on her tanned face. "And this is a good thing?"

Shannon nodded. "Definitely."

"Very well, then," Teyla said, "I will buy it."

"Great," Shannon replied as Elizabeth smiled widely again. She was about to make a small fortune on these two women, and that meant she could now afford the few things she'd been eyeing for a while.

Shannon helped her back toward the dressing room. "Let's find some more stuff for you."

Nearly two hours later, they emerged from the boutique absolutely piled down with boxes and bags. To Teyla's delight, they had managed to find many things that were on sale, and she spent much less than she'd feared they would. Shannon hailed a cab, and they loaded everything into the trunk before getting in themselves.

"Where to next?" Shannon asked her. Teyla shrugged.

"I do not know. This place is so big."

The younger woman laughed. "I hear ya'." She turned to the driver. "Do you know where the Hollywood Hair Salon is?"

He smiled widely. "Sure do."

"Great. Take us there, please."

"Okay."

Satisfied, she leaned back in her seat and glanced at Teyla, who seemed confused. "I figured as long as you're gonna have a dress fit for a princess, you might as well have a hairstyle to match."

"Shannon," Teyla began, placing her hand over her friend's, "I wanted to thank you for accompanying me on this trip."

"Don't mention it," the waitress-turned-hunter shrugged. "Like I said before, you deserve it."

"But..." Teyla began, but Shannon cut her off.

"Look, I may not know a lot about you, but from the way your friends look at you, you've been through some rough stuff. And I know that look in your eyes. It's the same one I probably have in mine."

Teyla nodded, suddenly unable to speak. Tears wavered in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. Instead, she patted Shannon's hand and managed a small smile.

"In any case, thank you," she said, her voice still full of emotion.

Shannon grinned back. "You're welcome."

The cab pulled up to a curb then, and Shannon paid the driver, slipping him a few dollars as a tip. He thanked her profusely, and then hopped out to help unload their packages. When he had pulled away again, Shannon turned to Teyla and gestured for her to follow her.

"Now, let's make sure we knock Sheppard off his feet so hard his ass will hurt for a month."

Teyla laughed out loud at the image Shannon's words provoked, and followed her into the hair salon.

* * *

TBC...


	11. Night on the Town

_AN: Okay, so this chapter kinda strays a little bit...I couldn't help it. I love the interaction between Teyla and Shep in the show, and often it sneaks into my writing. Um, but don't worry, it's gonna go back to Sam & Dean, and possibly Cass and/or Lucifer soon...I PROMISE! LOL _

_Anyway, enjoy!_

* * *

Chapter 11

Sheppard paced around the lobby of the expensive restaurant, his finger absently pulling the itchy collar of his dress shirt away from his neck. With a sigh, he checked his watch again. Less than thirty seconds had passed since the last time he'd checked it, but he was getting nervous. He knew how big Vegas was, and how seedy it could be at night. A knot had begun to work itself into his stomach, and his gut suddenly felt very hollow.

He'd told them dinner was at nine, hadn't he?

Yes, he was sure he had, just before they'd left.

So then, where _were_ they?

"Sheppard?"

Dean's voice made him turn around.

"Not here, yet," he replied to the question in the younger man's eyes.

Dean was a little concerned himself, but he didn't show it. Instead, he shrugged. "Eh, you know how women can be. Takes forever for them to get ready."

Sheppard nodded, but his worry didn't fade. Just as he was about to relay his concerns aloud, the door swung open, and Shannon stepped through it, wearing a dark crimson dress that flowed down her body like a fiery waterfall. Matching red shoes covered her feet, the tops of them adorned with crystal sunbursts. Her chestnut hair was pinned up, but she had let a few strands curl loosely at the sides and back, and teardrop-shaped diamonds hung from her ears to match the necklace at her throat.

"Damn," Dean breathed from somewhere behind him, and Sheppard chuckled sympathetically.

The laugh soon died in his throat, however, when Shannon stepped to the side. Teyla had been behind her, but now she stood in full view of both Sheppard and Dean.

Sheppard was sure he had never seen a more beautiful vision in his life. Her dress fit her perfectly, suggesting the curves of her body without hugging them, the halter softly circling her slender neck to leave her arms bare. On her feet were silver, high-heeled sandals, the straps wrapping around her ankles like ballet slippers. Her hair was pulled up like Shannon's, but there were more curls pinned on the top of her head, and only one strand on either side had been left loose. She wore no earrings, since her ears were not pierced, but she made up for it with a diamond comb placed on the left side of her hair, and a bunch of tiny silver and sapphire bracelets that adorned her left wrist, jingling softly as she moved.

Sheppard had to clench his jaw to keep his mouth from falling open, and he was suddenly speechless; his heart was beating too fast and too hard to be able to speak.

"Double damn," Dean said then, and Sheppard could only nod. He was aware of movement to his right, and saw that the rest of the men who'd been with him had entered the lobby.

"Wow," Sam said, his eyes wide with surprise. "You both look...amazing!"

"Thank you, Sam," Shannon replied shyly. She'd known this would be their reaction, but actually seeing it now made her nervous, anyway.

"Yes, yes, very lovely," Rodney put in, and Teyla inclined her head in thanks. She noticed Ronon in his suit and tie, standing behind Rodney. He looked uncomfortable, but not unhappy.

"And you men look very handsome, as well," she said, her eyes glancing at each of them before coming to rest pointedly at Sheppard.

Finally recovered from the shock of seeing Teyla dressed so elegantly, he stepped forward and offered her his arm, which she took graciously. As the rest of the group went ahead, with Dean following Sheppard's lead and taking Shannon's arm, the Colonel leaned down and said, "You had a good time with Shannon, I take it?"

Teyla grinned. "Yes. And do not worry; I did not spend too much of your money."

He shrugged. "That doesn't matter. I wanted you to enjoy yourself. Which you obviously did."

"Yes. Thank you, John."

"You're welcome. And by the way," he said, stopping at the door to the dining room and turning to face her. His hazel-green eyes danced wildly as he stared down at her. "You do look amazing tonight. I'd love it if you'd be my date for the evening."

Blushing at his sudden, full attention, she bowed her head. "Thank you. And I would be honored to be your 'date'."

"Great," he replied, grinning easily at her. "Let's eat. I'm starving."

They glided together through the dining room, Teyla trying to ignore the startled – and sometimes jealous – looks that others gave her, and Sheppard meeting those glances with a possessive flash in his eyes, though the smile remained on his face the entire time. When they reached their table, Sheppard held her chair for her as she sat down, and she thanked him with a smile. Then, he took the empty seat beside her, nearly laughing out loud as he watched the Winchesters from where they sat on either side of Shannon, each trying to gain her favor by filling her water glass, asking if she was cold, then offering their jackets.

He nudged Teyla's elbow, and she leaned over, the better to hear him when he spoke.

"What would you do if I did something like that?" He asked.

"I am not sure. I suppose I would try to assure you that I was fine."

"What if I didn't get the hint?"

She smiled sweetly up at him. "Then, I would convince you. By throwing you over the table."

He laughed then, and nodded. "That's what I thought."

As he watched his friends around him, talking and laughing between bites of food, he suddenly felt more at ease than he had in years. He knew then that he'd made the right decision in spending some time here on Earth. Though he hadn't been too crazy about Dean and Sam at first, they had turned out to be the best people he could've hoped to meet – hell, he thought, they'd saved his life, though he wouldn't have needed it if he hadn't been so damned stubborn in the first place. And even if Rodney hadn't agreed with his decision to include them in the mission, at least he'd had the grace to go along with it. Ronon, of course, had fully accepted his judgment; at this very moment he was talking quietly with Dean. _Probably sharing war stories_, Sheppard figured.

And Teyla. Sheppard unconsciously looked over at her again, and just then noticed that her dress was backless. He fought down the sudden urge to reach out and run his hand over her bare skin, forcing his thoughts to return to a far less dangerous path.

She also had no complaints about his choice to include the Winchesters, though she had remained wary of them for a while. _Until they patched me up_, he thought again bitterly. He was grateful, there was no doubt about that; but he wished to God that he'd been smart enough not to have needed to rely on someone – anyone – like that. He'd worked so hard not to depend on others, as he had since he was a teenager. His father had always told him, "John, you can't depend on anyone. People will always let you down, especially when you need them the most."

Sheppard scoffed inside his mind. His father had done the same exact thing, the day Sheppard had told his father he wanted to go into the Air Force. "If you walk out that door, John," his father had shouted, "don't ever come back!" Well, that's just what he'd done. He'd left, and his brother took his place in the family business.

"John?" Teyla's voice suddenly asked, and he blinked a few times to clear away the memories.

"Sorry," he said, taking a sip of water from his glass. "I was just thinking."

She softened her gaze in sympathy and relayed what he'd missed. "We were about to order dessert. Would you like some?"

"I'm good, thanks."

"Are you sure? There is chocolate cake, and..."

"I said I'm good, Teyla!" he snapped. For a moment, she looked hurt, but then the smile returned.

"I will have the chocolate cake, please," she said to the waiter, who nodded and hurried away.

When the waiter had gone, Ronon turned to gaze at Sheppard and Teyla. "Something wrong?" He asked.

"No," Sheppard sighed, suddenly wishing he'd ordered something stronger than wine.

Teyla stood up then, and spoke to the rest of the table. "I am feeling a little warm. I think I will step outside for a moment."

"Sure," Shannon replied with a nod. "You want me to come with you?"

With a small smile, Teyla shook her head once. "No, thank you. I will be fine." With that, she left the room, her heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor. Sheppard watched her leave, guilt running through his veins like burning lava. It was his fault she'd left; he'd been too sharp with her. Rubbing his hand through his unruly hair, he let out a deep sigh and stood up as well. He had to explain himself, to apologize to her.

"I, uh, gotta go...do...something."

Without waiting for a reply, he quickly made his way out of the dining room, through the lobby, and out of the restaurant.

* * *

Teyla stood on the sidewalk near the restaurant, her emotions running through her faster than she could acknowledge them. With a sigh, she rubbed her arms against the cool breeze that passed over her, and looked down at herself. She mentally scolded herself for going through all this effort, though her original intent had not been merely for Sheppard's benefit, but her own. Never had she looked so elegant, so regal, and she knew she probably never would again. _But this isn't me_, she argued; she was much more at home wearing her soft hide skirt and vest, her hair flowing loose down her back.

Suddenly, home seemed too far away to her.

"Teyla."

She turned slowly, knowing who was there behind her. She was both relieved and annoyed to see Sheppard there; she wanted to be alone, yet she wanted even more to hear what he had to say.

"John," she replied coolly. The sharpness of his earlier words still rang in her ears.

Sheppard slumped against a nearby lamp post, his arms crossed over his chest. She noticed that he'd loosened his tie, so that it no longer sat tightly against his neck. For a moment, it looked almost like a noose to her, and she entertained that thought for longer than she was comfortable with.

"Look," he began, "I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. It was wrong of me."

"It is all right." And, she was surprised to find that it was. Then, she took a step toward him. "Why _did_ you act the way you did?"

He blew out a breath, and pushed away from the post. "When you called my name, I'd been thinking about my...my dad."

"It still upsets you to think of him?" Another step forward. If she got any closer, she'd be in his arms. The thought pleased him immensely, but he pushed it away. He'd promised himself he wouldn't make another mistake tonight, and he was certain that acting on his thoughts would be a mistake.

"Yeah," he replied. "He was quite a formidable man. Very intimidating."

"But he is dead now. What harm can he cause you?"

He laughed then, a soft chuckle that could barely be heard. "He can't. Not directly, anyway. But everything he said and did to me, well...I can't forget them."

Teyla glanced at him, a knowing look in her eyes. "And what of what you said and did to _him_?"

He thought about this for a moment. "You might have a point."

She nodded, her dark eyes wide. "John, the relationship between parents and children is the same on every world, I think. And it has been the same for thousands of years. The important thing is that you remember the good times, and not just the bad."

He grinned sheepishly at her. "And that you don't snap at your date because of the bad ones."

She grinned back. "I suppose I could forgive you, but you may have to do something to make up for it."

His eyes turned perilously dark. "Name it," he murmured, lowering his forehead to touch hers. He left it there a beat longer than normal, struggling to keep himself from tilting just a little more so he could reach her lips. She was so close. Her perfume filled his nostrils, sweet and unassuming just like herself. All he had to do was put his hand on her back, pull her a little closer...

Finally, he raised his head, dragging his eyes up to stare into hers. When he did, he was surprised to see some kind of turmoil there, and he nervously wondered if she'd somehow read his thoughts and understood his feelings. _Or_ , he thought optimistically, _maybe she shared those feelings_. He discarded the idea immediately. Teyla saw him as a friend, he was sure of that.

After a moment, the mischievous smile was back on her lips, and she grabbed his shirt and pulled him back toward the restaurant.

"You can help me eat my piece of cake. I am so full, I could never finish it alone."

He returned the smile as he jogged to keep up with her.

"You got it, princess," he whispered.

* * *

"That was fun, huh?" Dean asked as he yanked off the tie that had been choking him for the last four hours or so, and sat down at the motel room's table.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it was. The girls looked great."

"Better than great," Dean corrected. "They were like movie stars. Or models."

Sam grinned knowingly. "Especially Shannon."

"Right? She looks so hot in red. Like a little red devil..."

"Okay, Dean, I got it," Sam interjected before Dean could elaborate any further.

"What about Rodney?" Dean suddenly asked, changing the subject. "I didn't know anyone could whine more than you."

Sam shot him a look, but simply shrugged and sat on the edge of his bed. "Ronon kept dragging him around the club like a rag doll, except that one time..."

Dean picked up on the train of thought, and continued, "When the hot brunette in the black outfit pushed Rodney into the chair, and Sheppard gave her money just so she _wouldn't_ give him a lap dance! Oh, man, that was classic!"

Sam laughed out loud as he remembered the surprised look on Rodney's face. When their laughter subsided, he asked, "So, what now?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. We'll call Bobby in the morning, see if he's got any leads."

"Or, you could try and ask Cass."

"Nah. No use trying that. He works for God, not me, remember?"

Sam sighed. "Yeah. But, Dean, if he can help us..."

"He can't." Though Dean's voice was soft, his tone was anything but. He stood at the end of Sam's bed, absently running his hand through his brown hair. "Look, this whole angels-versus-demons thing is getting on my nerves. It's time we took things into our own hands, you know? Made our own 'destiny' or whatever."

Sam mulled that over for a moment. He saw where Dean was coming from; in fact, he was beginning to feel the same way himself. But neither of them could deny that they had been pulled into the situation years ago, and there was no way out of it now.

Too much had happened.

Before Sam could reply, there was a knock on the door. The brothers exchanged a look of unease, and then Dean went over and stood beside the door frame.

"Yeah?" He called out.

"It's me," the person on the other side called back. Dean heard the underlying fear in the voice, and pulled open the door.

Shannon stepped into the room, still wearing her red dress. Her feet were bare, however, and she'd obviously begun to take her hair down, as the back half curled loosely around her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" Both Dean and Sam asked simultaneously, and only then did Dean notice that she was shivering, though he wasn't sure it was from the chilly air inside the motel. Her brown eyes were wide as she moved further away from the doorway.

"I was just in my room, and I noticed the bathroom light was on. I didn't really think about it when I first came in, but a few minutes later I remembered that I'd shut it off before Teyla and I left."

Sam stood up then, gently wrapped his arm around her, and led her to Dean's bed, where she sat on the very edge, her limbs still trembling. After a moment, she took a deep breath to calm herself, then continued.

"I figured maybe I'd been mistaken, so I went in to shut it off, but there was something behind the door, to keep it from opening all the way. I had to shove it as hard as I could, and when I finally got in..."

She stopped, her bottom lip wavering as she remembered the scene. Her eyes flicked from Dean to Sam and back again.

"What was it?" Sam asked in a near-whisper, dreading what he was about to hear.

"The cleaning lady. She was laying against the door, with her throat ripped out. There was blood everywhere. I was so freaked out, I ran right over here." With a sheepish grin, she added, "I panicked, I guess."

"'S okay," Dean replied, grabbing a blanket from the end of the bed and handing it to Shannon, who gratefully took it and wrapped it around her shoulders. "It's a bad shock, coming in after a good night out, only to find somethin' like that."

She nodded, and then seemed to remember something else. "There was something on the mirror. Some kind of symbols, or foreign language, maybe?"

Dean and Sam exchanged looks again, and Dean said, "Okay. Just sit tight a minute."

She nodded, finally feeling safe in the brothers' room.

Dean turned to look at Sam "Come here for a minute, will you?"

"Sure," Sam replied, and followed Dean to the other side of the room.

"We should check it out," Dean stated, keeping his voice low.

Sam nodded. "But don't you think one of us should stay here with her? What – or who – ever did this might still be after her."

Dean bit his lower lip as he thought about that. Then, he shrugged. "Paper-rock-scissors? Loser stays here."

"Dean," Sam whined quietly. It seemed to him that Dean would never learn that Sam always won. Fairly quickly, Sam saw the futility in arguing with his brother, and he sighed. "Fine."

They both pounded their fists into their hands, and on three, Sam produced a "rock", while Dean had the "scissors".

"Best of three," Dean said, but Sam shook his head.

"Just keep an eye on her."

"Fine," Dean pouted, as Sam crossed the room to where Shannon sat.

"I'll be right back. Dean's gonna stay here," Sam assured her, and though a fearful look again crossed her face, she nodded silently.

Casting a last glance at his brother, Sam pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway. As he shut it behind him, the sick feeling of dread returned to his gut, and for a wild moment, he considered asking Sheppard to go with him. Then, he thought better of it, and continued down the hall toward Shannon's room. The door to her room was wide open; no doubt she'd left it that way in her haste to escape the horror within.

Carefully edging around the door frame, Sam slipped into the room. He immediately noticed Shannon's shoes laying on the floor near the closest bed, and the small pile of bobby pins scattered over the surface of the bedside table. Sweeping the room with the gaze of a trained hunter, he saw no indication of a living invader, which managed to unnerve him even more. The only possibilities left were: ghost, vampire, or demon.

He couldn't say he liked any of them more than another.

Sam stepped over to the bathroom and leaned his tall frame inside. Again, it was empty, except for the unfortunate cleaning lady. She was where Shannon had last seen her, lying behind the door. Her dark brown eyes were open, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, and her chest and neck were bathed in blood. Sam fought a wave of nausea as he visually examined her wounds – her throat was indeed torn open, and she also had large gashes on her arms and chest, as if something had clawed at her before finally severing her jugular vein. It appeared to Sam that it was this last injury which caused her untimely death, as the majority of her blood pooled directly beneath her head.

Finally, Sam tore his gaze away from the housekeeper, and focused on the mirror directly in front of him. The designs, most likely drawn with the woman's blood, were ones Sam had seen before, though for the moment he couldn't recall exactly where. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small notepad and a pen, and copied the designs onto the paper. He was almost finished when he heard a noise behind him, and he spun around to face whoever was there.

"You?" He said, his eyes wide. Then, he felt a sharp pain as he was flung against the wall, and his vision turned black.

* * *

TBC...


	12. Leaving Las Vegas

_AN: Aaargh! I know it's been forever since I updated this story, but fear not! I haven't forgotten about it. The plot bunnies chased me down and cornered me with two other stories in the meantime, so that's what I've been busy on. But now, I'm back to this one, and I SHALL finish it! So enjoy Chapter 12, and please R&R! They make me smile!_

_Edit: I fixed a few small issues with the end of the chapter. Hopefully it's better now. LOL  
_

* * *

Chapter 12

The first thing Sam felt when he woke up was pain. His head throbbed so badly it felt like it was about to explode, and his chest was incredibly tight, as if a ton of lead had been settled on top of him. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and regretted it instantly as he recognized the person before him.

"Welcome back, Sammy," Lucifer said, grinning widely at him. He was seated on Shannon's bed, turning one of her shoes over in his hands. He still held Sam against the wall with his powers, and though Sam's body ached all over, he didn't show it.

"You did this?" Sam asked skeptically. He knew how Lucifer operated, and killing helpless housekeepers didn't really fit his MO.

The man shook his head. "Nope. More like one of my former associates. He sometimes gets a little..." he searched for a word to fit, "zealous, in his attempts to please me."

"I could see that. So," Sam decided to change the subject, "what are you doing here?"

"Well, besides the obvious," Lucifer replied, gesturing toward Sam, "I came to deal with the one who murdered the poor woman in the bathroom."

Sam scoffed. "So, what, you're trying to show your kinder, gentler side?"

Lucifer tilted his head to the side, a disappointed frown on his blistered face. "I never claimed to be otherwise. It's all your damned religious literature that makes me out to be a bloodthirsty killer."

He got up from the bed and took a step toward Sam. "Besides," he added, "unlike you and your brother, I only kill people who deserve it."

Sam clenched his jaw, biting back another sarcastic comment. He refused to argue morality with the Devil anymore.

Lucifer crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Sam for a moment. Then, he asked, "I don't suppose any of this has changed your mind?"

Glaring hard back into the man's eyes, Sam growled, "No."

"I thought not." He blinked once, and Sam felt the pressure on him instantly release, and he slid down to the floor. Lucifer turned away, to glance toward the bathroom, and said, "In that case, I'd get out of here if I were you. Too many questions will need to be answered when they find her, and things could get messy."

Sam stood up, glad that the pounding in his head was beginning to lessen, and nodded.

"Are you ever going to stop asking me to be your vessel?" He asked then. Lucifer shook his head.

"Not until you say 'yes'. And, by the way, you will eventually say it."

Sam chuckled darkly. "When Hell freezes over."

Lucifer almost looked hurt by that. "You know, Sam," he said, leaning forward as if to impart a secret, "God isn't the only one who knows the future."

Unsure of how to reply, Sam wisely decided to say nothing. It was apparently the correct thing to do, as Lucifer grinned in satisfaction. He walked away from Sam, toward the window that faced the parking lot, and then remembered something else.

"Oh," he said, turning back to stare at Sam, "and tell that female hunter friend of yours that next time, she might not be so lucky."

With that, Lucifer disappeared, leaving nothing but a strong gust of wind behind him.

When Sam stepped back into his and Dean's motel room, Dean immediately stood up from his chair and practically yelled, "Where've you been? I was just about to come find you!"

"I, uh," Sam stuttered, "There was something I had to deal with."

Dean eyed him curiously. "Like what?" He asked.

With a sigh, he walked over to his bed and flopped down, noticing then that Shannon had fallen asleep on Dean's bed, still wrapped in the blanket Dean had given her.

He uttered a single word in reply. "Lucifer."

Dean's eyes widened. "What? What's he doing here?"

"Still trying to convince me to be his vessel, apparently."

"So, what, he ganked the housekeeper?"

Sam shook his head. "Not exactly, though I think he knew more about it than he let on."

Dean perched carefully on the edge of his bed, so as not to disturb Shannon. "But it was definitely a demon, right?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, stifling a yawn. "There were claw marks on her, and her jugular was nearly severed clean in half. There was something odd that I noticed, though."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked, his head tilted to the side. Though he showed no outward signs, Sam knew him well enough that he could tell that Dean was suddenly very interested.

"You know the symbols on Shannon's mirror?"

Dean nodded.

"The housekeeper drew them herself. I saw blood on her fingers and under her nails. Her own blood."

"That's messed up."

"I know," Sam said. "What I can't figure out is, did the demon possess her body in order to draw them, or did she do them completely on her own?"

Dean stuck out his bottom lip as he thought about that. "There's really no way to tell, either way." Then, he asked, "You clean up the body?"

"Yeah. The bathroom, too."

Dean nodded his approval. "One thing's been bugging me for a while," he said after a moment.

"What's that?"

"Why was Shannon was so freaked out by all this. I mean, she _is_ a hunter."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe it's like you said earlier; none of us were expecting anything to happen tonight, so it was a shock to her."

"Maybe," Dean agreed. "You ever figure out what those symbols were?"

"I was just about to get on the 'net and work on that."

"Good. Don't stay up too late, though."

"I won't," Sam replied.

"Uh-huh," Dean said, knowing the look in Sam's eye too well. His little brother would stay up as late as it took, even if that was after dawn. No matter how much he yelled at him to go to bed, he would never listen, so Dean simply shook his head and made as comfortable a spot as he could in a chair. He fell asleep to the sound of Sam typing on his laptop.

* * *

When Dean woke again, his first thought was that he was still dreaming. Shannon was walking past him wrapped in a towel, her shoulder-length hair still dripping from her shower. Though he was curious to see if she was going to get dressed out in the main room, he decided to be a gentleman, and cleared his throat softly.

Shannon spun around and saw him staring at her, a question in his eyes. Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she explained, "I couldn't bring myself to shower in my bathroom, after what happened. I figured since you both were asleep, I'd just hop in yours. You don't mind, do you?"

"Oh, not at all."

"Good. Thank you," she said, and reached for her clothes, which she'd laid in a pile on Dean's bed.

"How'd you sleep?" He asked her.

"Okay. I woke up once around 3 am, though." When Dean raised an eyebrow, she smiled and explained, "Sam must've been having a nightmare. He was yelling something I couldn't make out. I'm surprised you didn't wake up; he was pretty loud."

Dean shrugged as she walked past him again, this time on her way back to the bathroom to change. "I guess I was exhausted, or I've gotten used to Sam's nightmares. Happens every once in a while, especially when he hasn't slept much during the week."

Though the bathroom door was open just enough that if he'd wanted, he could've peeked inside and watched her, Dean kept his eyes on Sam, who was sprawled out on his stomach over his bed, his long arms and legs dangling over the sides. His shaggy hair covered his face, but Dean could see that every once in a while, Sam's lips moved as if he was having a conversation with someone.

"So," Shannon's voice caught his attention once again, "I heard that Sheppard and his team are going back to their ship today."

"Yeah," Dean replied, surprised that he actually felt sad that they were leaving. "We're supposed to meet them in a while to say goodbye."

"You okay?" She asked. "You sound upset about it."

He chuckled softly at her perceptiveness. "I'm okay. It's weird; it's almost like I've known them all my life, but other times it seems like we just met them yesterday."

"I know what you mean. They're good people. It sucks to know that they won't be on Earth again for a while. Or maybe never again."

You don't even know the half of it, he thought to himself. If everything went as it was fated to, no human would ever walk the earth again. It wasn't a thought he liked to entertain.

An urgent-sounding knock at the door suddenly broke him out of his thoughts, and he jumped up from his chair to answer it. Sheppard stood on the other side, with Teyla and Rodney behind him. They all seemed extremely worried, and it instantly made Dean nervous as well.

"Is Ronon in here?" Sheppard asked him, and he shook his head.

"No. Why?"

Sheppard stepped into the room without waiting for an invitation, but Dean didn't comment on it. "We can't find him. We've checked everywhere."

Hearing the commotion, Sam woke up, and asked, "What's goin' on?"

"Ronon's missing," Dean replied.

Shannon came out of the bathroom, her hairbrush in her hand. She walked over to the window, and pulled the blinds up, causing the bright morning sun to blast into the room. Sam shielded his eyes with his hand, still unused to the light.

"You drove a red Camaro, right?" She asked Sheppard, who nodded. "It's not in the lot."

"What?" Sheppard strode over to the window, needing to see it for himself. Sure enough, the spot where he'd parked the car was empty, a small oil slick the only evidence of his car ever being there.

"Why would Ronon take your car?" Rodney asked then. "He doesn't know his way around this city, much less the planet!"

"I don't know, Rodney," Sheppard replied patiently. He turned to Dean. "We have to find him, before something really bad happens."

"Okay." Dean ran his hands through his hair. He hadn't even been awake twenty minutes, and already this day was turning to crap. Not only had a huge alien taken Sheppard's car and gone who-knows-where for whatever reason, but Dean really had to pee.

Dean turned to Teyla. "You shared a room with him, right?"

She nodded slowly. "That is correct."

"Did you notice anything...strange? Anything missing, or something new that wasn't there before?"

Teyla thought for a moment, her eyes cast up toward the ceiling. Again, she nodded. "His clothes from earlier...they were on the floor. He must be wearing his usual clothing, the ones he wears on Atlantis."

"What about his gun?" Sheppard asked then, his stern gaze urging her to remember anything she could. "Was it in the room?"

She shook her head. "No. He must have it with him."

"Oh, that's just great!" Rodney blurted, his face taut with worry. "So now, there's a six-foot alien running around Earth with a loaded weapon!"

"Rodney, calm down," Sheppard warned, shooting him a look. "We'll find him."

"It gets worse," Sam said then, and everyone turned to stare at him.

"How?" Sheppard asked.

"I think he's been possessed."

Dean cocked his head in a silent question, as Sheppard echoed, "Possessed?"

Sam nodded.

"By what?"

"A demon," he replied. When all he got was more confused looks, he sighed, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. "Look, you guys met an angel, right?"

They all nodded, and he went on. "Okay. Well, where there's good, there's evil. Angels are good…"

"Depends," Dean breathed, but only Sam heard him.

"And demons are evil," Teyla finished, and he nodded.

"So, let me get this right," Rodney said then, his skepticism obvious. "You're saying that there's a six-foot alien running around Earth, with a loaded weapon, and what was it now? Oh, right, a demon has taken over his body!"

"Rodney!" Sheppard shouted at him, effectively shutting him up.

They all stood there, contemplating the situation at hand. Rodney was right; Ronon was already dangerous enough unarmed, but with Sheppard's car and his own energy weapon, there was no telling what kind of havoc he could create, not to mention that there was an evil entity now controlling him.

Rodney snapped his fingers rapidly, an idea suddenly forming in his brilliant mind. "The _Daedalus_."

"What about it?" Sheppard asked him.

"We can use it to find Ronon."

"How, exactly?"

Exasperated at the colonel's lack of scientific knowledge and/or critical thinking skills, Rodney snorted derisively. "Simple. We get on board the _Daedalus_, and I use the signal from his subcutaneous transmitter to find him. Then, we beam down to his location."

Sheppard considered the scientist's proposal. It seemed promising, sure, but if anyone had bothered to stop and think about it as he had, they'd realize quite a few...issues.

"Okay," he finally said, "but what if he's in the car, on the Strip? We can't very well beam into the middle of Vegas. Too many witnesses."

Dean nodded his agreement. "Yeah. I can't see that one going over too well with the cops."

Rodney deflated, but he wouldn't give up the idea. "Well, of course not. That's why we wait until he's somewhere isolated, where not too many people would see us, and _then_ go in."

"But –" Sheppard began, but Rodney held up a hand to cut him off.

"Look," he interjected, "there is no perfect solution to this. I'm just giving you our best options. Unless," he scowled at his superior, "you'd rather the local authorities find him?"

Sheppard had to admit, he liked that scenario even less. Sighing heavily, he pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, warding off the headache he felt coming on.

"Okay, we'll go along with your plan, Rodney."

McKay beamed proudly, and began to head out of the room to find his radio. "I'll go inform _Daedalus_ of our situation."

* * *

_TBC...I SWEAR!_


	13. What Happens in Vegas

_AN: Hey, guys...second-to-last chapter up! Um, so, not much to explain, just read and ENJOY! And Review...always review. Yeah._

* * *

Chapter 13

He guessed he wasn't a very good driver, after all.

Sheppard's car lay in a ditch, with a long, white scratch along the driver's-side door. The mirror had been torn off on the way down the embankment, and now he tossed it along with the keys to the car into the passenger's seat before shutting the door as best he could, as the frame was bent fairly severely.

He stepped out onto the road, shielding his eyes from the hot sun as he glanced in both directions. There were no other cars out here, nothing even resembling a building. That was all right; he'd been in much less…inviting places before. Now, all he had to do was wait.

He'd read enough of this primitive creature's mind to predict what would happen next, what steps the man's friends would take after they realized he was missing. He was looking forward to it, to meeting them. They would not be able to match his strength, but they'd put up a good fight, and that fight was what he was anticipating. It would make killing them so much sweeter.

He crossed the hot pavement of the road, only casually noticing the scorpion that scuttled near his boot, and soon felt the sand of the desert underneath him, relishing the dry waves of heat that buffeted his face and arms. After he'd gone almost a mile into the desert, he watched with amusement as a bright light shimmered into life just ahead of him. _There_, he thought, _now the party's all here_.

"Good of you to finally show up," he growled through the man's mouth at the group standing before him, though his eyes only focused on their leader, the one this pathetic creature called "Sheppard". This was the one he wanted to save for last, the one he wanted to force to watch as the rest of his friends were cut down one by one. And if, by some chance, he refused to break, then there would be no greater pleasure than slowly bleeding his life from him.

"Who are you?" Another of them asked then, stepping forward from Sheppard's left side. Ah, he recognized this one all too well. That was none other than the infamous Dean Winchester. _Well, this was getting better all the time_. _Now where was…?_ He glanced around, and realized that Sam wasn't among the group. There was a shorter man, and two women, both brunettes with somewhat attractive figures, but the younger Winchester was nowhere to be found. _Doesn't really matter_, he told himself. _Probably got sick of standing in his brother's shadow._

"No one important," he replied, and took a step forward. Instantly, everyone raised the guns they carried, pointing them at his chest and head. He merely grinned. "In case you haven't figured it out by now, those are useless against me."

"Get out of him, or we'll fill him with lead."

He chuckled. "No, you won't. He's your friend."

Dean primed the shotgun and took a step toward him. "Try me."

He stared into Dean's eyes, and just for a moment, his confidence wavered. _Dean was serious_, he decided then. _He'd blow this vessel apart without another thought_.

He shifted his gaze to Sheppard again. "And what about him?" He asked. "Would he be able to do something so…cold?"

Before Dean could answer, Sheppard leveled his handgun and replied, "Done it before, and I will again if you don't give Ronon up."

"Impressive," he said, inclining his head. Then, he winced and insincerely added, "By the way, sorry about your car."

Sheppard merely shrugged, indicating that he didn't really care – although he did, oh, he really did – and asked, "What do you want with him, anyway?"

"A ride to the Pegasus, of course. What did you think? After you killed the creatures we originally made the deal with, I had to…improvise."

"Forget it," Dean snarled. "All you're getting is a one-way ticket back to Hell."

He took a deep breath and sighed loudly. "You humans." Then, he held up his hands in an "oh, well" gesture, and said, "I can see that you're not going to give up without a fight. Good luck."

Sheppard grinned then, and the cockiness of the smile irritated him immensely. _Did he not realize who he was dealing with?_

"Oh, we don't need to fight you, at least not with these," Sheppard said, jiggling his gun slightly.

Now he was confused. As he stared at the colonel, he realized that the man wasn't staring back at him, but behind him. Too late, he turned around, just as Sam stabbed a needle full of an amber-colored liquid into his neck. He tried to grab at the younger Winchester, but already his hands felt too heavy, his eyes could no longer focus. Soon, his legs turned to water beneath him, and he crumpled to the hot desert floor, unable to fight the unconsciousness from overtaking him.

"Okay," Dean said as he checked Ronon's pulse, finding it strong, if not slightly slower than normal. He looked over at Rodney. "Let's get him back to the motel."

Rodney nodded, and clicked on his com. "_Daedalus_, this is McKay. We have Ronon."

"Dr. McKay, this is _Daedalus_," Colonel Caldwell's voice replied. He sounded slightly irritated, but Rodney ignored that. Caldwell got irritated at everything. "Prepare for transport."

Rodney glanced at Sheppard, who nodded back to him and then called out, "Okay, everyone get ready."

A split second later, they all found themselves inside Sheppard's room at the motel. Dean was still bent over Ronon, his fingers still pressed against the Satedan's neck. When he glanced around and noticed the change in scenery, he stood up.

"Much better than the Cass method," He muttered, and motioned for Sam to come and help him. Together, they began drawing a strange symbol above the bed with white chalk.

"What are you going to do to him?" Teyla asked as she watched them, her eyes fully of concern.

"Hopefully, nothing that'll cause permanent damage," Dean muttered, causing her only to worry some more. Her eyes darted to Sheppard, then Sam, and back to Dean. Sam stopped what he was doing and glanced down at her, his own gaze one of compassion.

"Don't worry. He'll be okay, I promise."

"Sam." He glanced at his brother, who pointed up at the ceiling. "Finish this up, will ya?"

"Yeah."

As Sam completed the symbol, Dean hopped down off the bed and stepped over to where Sheppard stood. The colonel's eyes seemed just as concerned as Teyla's, and he unconsciously rubbed his stitched chest, as he remembered the events that had occurred in this same room less than a week ago.

"Look," Dean said then, and Sheppard's gaze swung to the younger man's face. "It's gonna get pretty wicked in here soon. I wouldn't blame ya if you wanted to wait outside…"

"Not a chance," Shannon suddenly piped up from her spot near the door. Beside her, Teyla shook her head, and McKay made the same motion, only more hesitantly. Seeing this, Sheppard managed a small smile.

"Thanks, but we're fine. We'll be sure to stay out of your way."

Dean nodded, and then he and Sam lifted Ronon onto the bed, making sure none of his limbs hung outside the circle they'd drawn on the ceiling. After a long silence, during which neither brother moved, Sheppard asked, "Now what?"

"Now, we wait."

"For what?" McKay snorted. "For him to go all 'Exorcist' on us?"

Dean grinned at him. "That never happens."

"Well, actually," Sam cut in. "There was that time in Minneapolis…"

"That was nothing like the Exorcist," Dean argued. "First of all, it was a dude, and second, he did not barf pea soup."

Sam shrugged. "Still, he did say some interesting things to you about your…you know…manhood."

Dean chuckled. "He was just jealous."

Tiring of the speed things were going, Sheppard sighed loudly. "How long before that drug wears off, guys?"

Just then, Ronon moaned, then quickly sat upright. "What's going on?"

"Ronon?" Teyla asked, and moved to go toward him, but Sam stood in her way.

"He's in there, but it's not him talking now," he explained. She watched his eyes, trying to determine if he spoke the truth, and decided that he was. Her expression pained, she nodded and stepped back again.

"Hey, pal," Dean said to Ronon, propping his foot on the end of the bed. "Have a good nap?"

Ronon looked around the room, his eyes roaming over everyone inside. "What are you doing? Where am I?"

Sam and Dean both pointed upward, and Ronon's eyes followed them up to the ceiling.

"Guess you could say we built a better demon trap," Dean smirked. "So, you wanna go quietly, or do we gotta get ugly?"

"I would rather be torn apart by hell-hounds," Ronon replied, his dark eyes growing ever darker, until their entire surface was completely black.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, and then both shrugged nonchalantly. "We can arrange that."

Dean took a single step back, crossing his arms over his chest as Sam stretched out his arm, his hand reaching out as if he were trying to grab something. Not wanting to miss what was happening, Shannon moved closer so she could see Sam better. At first, Sam just stood there, his eyes glaring at Ronon's face as he concentrated on some single thought. Then, his eyelids slid closed, and his fingers flexed almost into a fist before opening again. Ronon's body began to convulse, and at first Sheppard and his team thought he was about to vomit.

That was when the screaming began. Ronon tilted his head upward and howled in pain, his voice louder and deeper than anyone had ever heard. Shannon clapped her hands over her ears, terrified, and even Sheppard took a step backward. He thought about asking Dean what the hell was happening, but he figured that he wouldn't be heard over the noise. Instead, he stood where he was, his arm protectively blocking both McKay and Teyla in case Ronon should somehow get free of the trap.

_Come on_, Sam urged himself. He was looking for that tiny sliver of weakness within the demon, that little corner of fear that he could grab onto and yank out of Ronon's body. Suddenly, he found it, and mentally wrapped his hand around it. The demon felt himself tearing loose, and fought back, but he was no match for Sam's ability. With a final, jarring pull, Sam forced the demon to release Ronon. Thick, black smoke soon began to pour from the Satedan's mouth and nose, forming a dark cloud that swirled momentarily above their heads before dissipating into nothing. Finally free of the demon's grip, Ronon slipped back into unconsciousness, his large torso flopping heavily back onto the bed.

* * *

"Is he…?" McKay wanted to finish his question, he really did, but he found himself choking on the last word.

"No, just unconscious. He should wake up in about an hour," Dean replied, and McKay nodded in relief.

"What the hell just happened?" Sheppard asked, giving Sam a wary glance.

Dean merely shrugged. He was so used to the same situation, that he often forgot that there weren't a lot of people who felt the same. "One of Sam's abilities is being able to pull a demon out of someone without killing them."

"Abilities?" Sheppard sounded almost angry. "You call that an ability?"

Dean frowned at the colonel's tone. "Look, without my little brother there, your friend would've been toast, okay?"

"And without our help, so would you when you went up against that Wraith!"

Teyla stepped forward then, her hand placed firmly on Sheppard's chest and her brown eyes holding fast on his hazel ones.

"It seems that we each have needed others special skills this last week." She turned to look at Dean. "We are very grateful that you have saved Ronon. Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks," Sheppard muttered after receiving another scalding glare from Teyla.

Dean nodded once. "Just doin' our job."

"I'm gonna get some air," Shannon said then. She had never liked confrontations, and this was definitely starting to make her nervous. It reminded her of the way her parents fought, and even more similarly, the topic of their arguments was usually her brothers.

McKay cleared his throat and said, "Good idea. I'll come with you."

They left quickly, and soon after, Dean and Sam said they were going to grab some dinner.

"That leaves you and me for guard duty," Sheppard tried to joke with Teyla after they'd gone, but she crossed her arms and walked to the window, staring unseeingly through the glass.

"John, why do you still not trust Sam and Dean?" She asked finally.

"I do," he said, coming to stand beside her, his shoulder leaning against the window frame. "I was just…"

"Do you not realize that nearly everyone those young men ever knew and loved are gone, except for each other? That one creature or another has taken their friends, their families, and left them nothing in return except more pain? How could you question Sam's ability like that? Treat him as…as if he weren't human, when it is obvious that they respect you very much?"

"I'm sorry, Teyla, but mentally exorcising a demon isn't really a normal human ability."

She turned to glare at him. "And is a human who is able to control Ancient devices 'normal'? Am I abnormal, because I can sense the Wraith?"

He started to tell her that was different, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized she was right. Maybe they all had more in common than he'd thought.

Blowing out a breath, he replied, "I guess not. Everything just happened so fast, I didn't know what to think. I guess I didn't think at all."

She was still angry with him, despite the puppy-dog look he'd just given her, and turned again to the window. "When I first met you," she began quietly, "one of the reasons I respected you so much was because you refused to judge me or my people until you got to know each and every one of us. I fear that perhaps, because of our dealings with our enemies, that side of you has changed."

Her words dug into his heart like a dagger of ice, twisting his insides until it almost physically hurt. "It hasn't, I swear. Teyla," he suddenly pulled her to face him, his hands gripping her arms, his eyes stormy. "I'm sorry. I'm not handling any of this well, I know. God, do I know. But this isn't business as usual here on Earth. At least, I had no idea that it was. Angels, demons, all on top of Wraith…it's enough to drive a man crazy."

She looked up at him, a teasing smile on her lips. "Have you gone crazy, John Sheppard?"

Though she only meant to be playful, he found her smile quite seductive, and soon had trouble keeping his thoughts organized. "Not yet," he managed, even as images of him passionately kissing those lips of hers flitted through his mind.

"Good." She moved a step closer to him, bringing her hands up to rest on his chest. Though he no longer carried the stitches Dean had given him, she couldn't help but wonder if he still hurt. As if he'd read her mind, he covered her hands with his own, pressing her palms tighter against him.

"So, evil creatures aside, what do you think of Earth?" He asked her then, his voice suddenly raspy, and she suddenly found it hard to breathe herself.

"It is very…intriguing."

"Mm," he agreed, still lost in the depths of her eyes. She was vaguely aware that his head was moving closer to hers, and she knew what he was intending to do, but she didn't stop him. She wanted to feel him kiss her, not roughly as he'd done when he was infected with Iratus DNA, but tenderly, genuinely. She wanted to know…

Just then, the door opened, and McKay stepped through it. "Hey, so, are we gonna go eat anytime soon? Cause I'm starving. I can actually _feel_ my blood sugar dropping."

Startled, Sheppard and Teyla both took a step away from each other, and McKay finally realized what he'd done. "Oh," he said. "I didn't mean to…"

"It is all right, Rodney," Teyla replied, as at that moment, Sheppard couldn't think straight enough to form actual words.

Luckily, he recovered quickly, and added, "As soon as the guys get back, we'll grab something at the diner around the corner."

Rodney smirked then. He had major dirt on Sheppard now, and he was about to make sure the colonel knew it. "Seems like I interrupted you about to grab something else, eh?"

Sheppard glared at him. "I was not. And if you mention it to anyone, I'll stick a lemon so far up your…"

"Rodney, are you being a jackass again?" A familiarly deep voice asked from the bed. The three of them turned to see Ronon sit up, his arms resting on his knees.

When he noticed the way they stared at him, he raised an eyebrow. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Oh, no reason," Rodney replied. "I don't suppose you remember how you got there, do you?"

Ronon shrugged. "No. Should I?"

"We can talk about it over dinner," Sheppard replied.

"Dinner?" Ronon asked, "I thought it was morning. We were supposed to go back to the _Daedalus_ at ten."

Sheppard looked down at Teyla, who smiled knowingly at him, and he grinned in return.

This was gonna take a while.

* * *

_TBC..._


	14. Stays in Vegas

_AN: Okay, so LAST chapter! AAH! It's taken such a long time to write this, and I still feel like there's more I could write, but then it might not be very good, know what I mean? It's like how Trilogies almost ALWAYS suck worse than the first movie - 'cuz everyone ran out of "good" ideas and just went with "kinda OK" ideas. _

_ANYWHO...hope you enjoyed the trip to Vegas, and remember, what happens in Vegas...well, you know. LOL As always, I am indebted to the kind folks who have reviewed, and favorited, and otherwise gave me inspiration for this story. Please R&R as usual!  
_

* * *

Chapter 14

Dean and Sheppard stood outside under another starlit sky, each holding a beer. They leaned against the Impala, again saying nothing, yet understanding the thoughts behind one another's silence. Sheppard finally looked at the empty parking spot beside Dean's car, and sighed heavily.

"If he hadn't been possessed, I might've killed him for wrecking my car."

Dean chuckled at that. "I hear ya. But at least she's not totaled."

Sheppard shrugged and scuffed the ground under his feet. "Guess you're right about that. Still…"

Dean took a swig of his beer, then said, "You know, I've got an uncle who's great with cars. Bet he could fix her for you."

"That'd be great, if we weren't leaving in an hour," Sheppard replied, again glancing up at the sky as if any moment, the _Daedalus_ would come into view. After all the drama of the past few days, he thought he'd be more glad to be going back to Atlantis. He _was_ glad, there was no question about that; but once more, he found himself also wishing he could stay.

Dean nodded in understanding. "Yeah, I know. But if you want, I…I mean, we could take her to him for you. Then, next time you're in the galaxy, she'd be all ready for you."

Sheppard glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "You sure about that? If it's out of your way…"

Dean grinned and waved away his concern. "Nah, it's cool. I was thinkin' about taking a trip to see him anyway. Besides, it'll give his lazy butt something to do for a while."

The colonel smiled at that, and then nodded. "All right. As long as it's no trouble."

"None at all." Dean finished the last of his beer and crushed the can. "Guess we'd better get inside and pack up, huh?"

"Yeah." Sheppard also downed the rest of his drink, and then followed Dean back into the motel. As he crossed the threshold, the colonel was acutely aware that everyone in the room wore the same gloomy expression.

_They look how I feel_, he thought. Pinning a grin onto his face, he asked, "What's with all the long faces?"

Teyla glanced up from her bag and gave him a small, lopsided smile, as if she were trying to laugh and not cry all at once. "I believe everyone is sad that we have to leave. This time on your world has been very…fun. For all of us."

"Yup," Ronon put in as he slung his belongings over his shoulder. "Except for the part where I was possessed. And the part where you almost died. And…"

"I get it, Buddy," Sheppard interrupted. Sam and Dean glanced at each other and grinned, sharing a single thought – _they sound just like us_. "Anyway, we'll be back again."

"I hope so," Shannon replied. "We girls had a great time shopping and stuff."

At that, Teyla's smile brightened. "Yes, we did. And there is so much more of your world I have not yet seen."

Before Shannon could speak, Dean cut in. "It ain't all that great." When everyone turned to stare at him, he explained, "What with all the demons and crap running around killing people. I mean, you guys got it pretty good out there."

"How's that?" Rodney asked. "We've got the Wraith to contend with, and they're not exactly easy to kill, as you well know."

"Well, okay," Dean conceded, "but still, you only have one enemy out in the Pegasus. Here, it seems like we've got a new one every day."

"For now!" Rodney shouted at him, and Shannon jumped, as she stood nearest to the scientist, and hadn't expected him to become so upset. "For now, we have only the Wraith! But there is no guarantee that tomorrow a new threat might pop up and try to exterminate us all."

Dean shrugged. He hadn't really meant to anger Rodney…well, not completely, anyway. He just found it irresistibly fun to push a person's buttons every now and then, and he knew enough about Rodney to figure that he was an easy target. However, he didn't wish for their last few minutes together to end with an argument, so he softened his tone and said, "That's the thing about life. There's never a guarantee for anything."

Though Rodney didn't reply, he could tell that his temper had been turned down a few notches, and Dean congratulated himself on his diplomacy.

"That's true," Sheppard said to Dean, though his eyes were on Teyla as he spoke. She noticed his gaze, and her head tilted only very slightly to the side. If anyone had blinked, they would've missed it.

"_Colonel Sheppard, this is Daedalus. We're ready when you are to beam you up."_

Sheppard tapped his earpiece and replied, "This is Sheppard. We're just about finished down here. Give us ten minutes?"

"_You got it, Colonel. We'll call back in ten. Daedalus out."_

When Sheppard had clicked his radio off again, Rodney asked, "Is it just me, or does Caldwell sound more...brusque…every few hours?"

Sheppard's brow furrowed. "Brusque?"

Rodney nodded. "Yeah. You know, gruff, stern…brusque."

"Why couldn't you just say gruff?"

"Why? Did you really not know what brusque meant?"

Sheppard sighed loudly. "Not really. Besides, it sounds like something my father would've said. He was always using big words that sounded way more important than they really were, when a small one would've been fine."

"Are you saying that I'm…"

Before Rodney could finish his question, Sheppard waved his hand and said, "Drop it, Rodney; we're wasting time." Then, he turned to Sam and Dean, and extended the same hand. "It was good to meet you guys. And say thanks to Castiel for me."

"Good to meet you, too," Dean said as first he, and then Sam, shook Sheppard's hand. "Come back anytime."

When Sheppard moved to Shannon, she firmly shook his hand, though tears pricked her eyes. "Goodbye, Colonel."

"Hey," he said, grinning, "when we're all together, you can call me John."

She found herself suddenly blushing, though she didn't really know why. She managed a smile. "Okay, then. Goodbye, John."

"Bye."

Teyla stepped forward and hugged Shannon next, and they exchanged promises to plan another shopping trip next time. When she moved to Sam and Dean, Teyla touched her forehead to each of them in turn.

"Thank you for all you have done," she said quietly. Sam was especially moved by her display of appreciation, and he soon found a lump forming in his throat that he had to clear in order to say goodbye to her.

"Well," Rodney said then, "it's been fun. And if any more Wraith decide to venture here, please, don't hesitate to call us."

"Thanks," Dean replied, "and let _us_ know if you suddenly have a demon problem."

"Will do."

Last of all was Ronon. He'd been standing toward the back of the room, leaning against the wall, but when everyone had said their goodbyes, he came forward and stood silently in front of the brothers. Sam and Dean exchanged a nervous look. Then, Ronon held out his hand, and when Dean extended his, they gripped each other's forearm in a warrior's handshake.

"Take care of yourselves," he rumbled, and both brothers nodded. When he gripped Sam's arm next, he added, "And each other."

"You, too," Dean and Sam said simultaneously. Ronon nodded solemnly, and then went to join the team.

"Oh. And, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sheppard?"

"Take care of my car."

Dean grinned. "You got it."

Then, Sheppard tapped his radio. "_Daedalus_, this is Sheppard. We're ready."

"_We read you, Colonel. Stand by." _

Sheppard raised his hand to the three hunters, and then the _Daedalus'_ beam engulfed his team, taking them up onto the ship that would soon leave Earth's orbit and head for the Pegasus galaxy.

When they had gone, Shannon turned to the brothers and said, "I'd better get back to the diner. My regulars are gonna be pissed that it's been closed so long."

"We could drive you out," Dean offered, but she shook her head.

"Thanks, but I'll be okay on my own. Besides, I have to make a few stops in between."

"Are you sure?" Sam chimed in. "It's no trouble for us."

Shannon smiled. "I'm sure. I've already got a ride. But, really, thank you. For everything."

"Well," Dean replied, looking completely disappointed, "watch your back. And call if you need anything."

"I will." She stepped closer to him and kissed him lightly on the lips. "And you do the same."

Slightly shocked by her kiss, he only nodded in return as she turned to Sam.

"No more dark warehouses," Sam warned her, and she laughed easily.

"I swear. I wanted to thank you, especially."

Sam was puzzled. "For what?"

She shot a mock-angry look at Dean, who seemed just as confused as his brother was. "For not treating me like a piece of meat." Then, she chuckled. "And for yanking that stake out of my side. That thing hurt like a bitch."

Sam chuckled in return. "Yeah, I bet. And thanks for all your help, too."

She seemed to debate something with herself for a moment, and then she stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. This time, though, her kiss was far more passionate than it had been with Dean, and Sam couldn't say that he didn't like it. In fact, he liked it even more when her arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close to her, and he took the opportunity to glance down at her face. Her eyes were closed, her long, dark eyelashes resting lightly on her cheekbones, and very light freckles scattered across her nose like the stars in the sky. He suddenly found himself wishing that he could just stay right here, with her, forever.

Dean watched all this from where he stood, his arms crossed over his chest. He had to admit, he hadn't seen that one coming, but he couldn't slight his brother for it. Hell, she was better for him than Ruby had ever been, and she was gorgeous to boot. If they didn't have a job to do, he'd try to convince Sam to stay with her himself, and if he wouldn't…well, then Dean would convince her that _he_ was worthy of her attention.

When Shannon finally pulled away from Sam, Dean winked at her. As if she only just remembered that he'd been in the room with them, she blushed furiously, and then grabbed her bags. Sam opened the door for her, his eyes still wide with surprise.

"See ya later, boys. And behave yourselves," she said, and then, without waiting for a reply, she started off down the sidewalk toward a black car that sat idling at the curb.

"Well, that was interesting," Dean quipped as he grabbed his own things and walked out the door. Sam hurried to catch up with him, and met him at the Impala's trunk.

"I had no idea…" Sam began, but Dean chuckled, and he fell silent.

"Don't gotta explain to me, Sammy. Only thing I can't figure out is how she could ever fall in love with a giraffe like you." He tossed the bags in the trunk and slammed the lid, then laughed again. "Mom and Dad shoulda named you 'Geoffrey'."

"Shut up, Dean," Sam huffed, irritated. He yanked open the passenger-side door and slid into his seat, as Dean flopped behind the wheel and started the car. "You heard what she said. At least I didn't drool all over her and constantly try to pick her up."

"Ooh, ouch. It's not my fault she's not into bad boys. Though, if she really knew about you and your little 'habit', she might not be so into you, either."

Sam's jaw clenched at that. "I told you, I stopped doing that…"

Dean pulled out onto the street, heading east. "Yeah, whatever," he muttered. "I'm just worried about you, what with Lucifer chasing you like The Hef chases Bunnies."

Though the mental picture Dean had created was fairly amusing, Sam frowned. "You don't have to be, Dean. He'll never get me."

Dean shot him a skeptical look, but let the subject drop, choosing a slightly safer one. "Any word from Bobby?"

"Yeah, actually," Sam replied, relieved at the change of topics. "He says there's been some omens in Upstate New York, of all places."

"That's a pretty long drive. Maybe we should stop somewhere for coffee before we head out," Dean suggested. "I know this cute little diner a few miles from here…"

Sam sighed and shook his head. "You're hopeless."

"Is that a 'yes', then?"

"I'm not the one driving, remember?"

Dean grinned. "You most certainly are not. Bitch."

Still shaking his head, Sam couldn't hide a smile from appearing on his own face, and he chuckled and replied, "Jerk."

THE END


End file.
